


Meeting under the Moonlight

by Perrygrace9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Animagus Harry Potter, Creature Fic, Cute, Cute Draco Malfoy, Dragons, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Good Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M, Molly Weasley Bashing, Other, Powerful Harry Potter, Quidditch World Cup, Romance, Severus Snape Bashing, Slow Build, Smart Harry, So if you love snape and are bitter about molly bashing then plz don't read it., Teen Romance, Triwizard Tournament, Veela Draco Malfoy, beauxbaton draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:56:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 86,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perrygrace9/pseuds/Perrygrace9
Summary: Harry's relatively good summer becomes better when he is invited to the Quidditch World Cup by the Weasleys, where he saves a blond haired, grey-eyed handsome boy during the death eater riots. Things go downhill from there when Harry is chosen as a champion for a deadly tournament. Good thing, that the same beautiful teen is ready to save Harry in more than one way.Meanwhile, Draco Lucius Malfoy, a prodigy and heartthrob of Beauxbaton Academy of magic, is in no way ready to miss the only chance of witnessing the tournament of the century because of some stupid age bar. And if it means working hard to get the post of the 'Student Representative for International Magical cooperation', then he'll do it. Good thing he is a prodigy and a Malfoy. But what happens when he develops a crush on a certain green-eyed champion? Or worse, what happens when he turns out to be Harry Potter?





	1. Godfather's Pup

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is an AU, which is obvious *receives eye rolls*, so don't complaint when certain characters and the way they behave is different, and so are the pairings. However, I will try and justify the nature of such characters through backstories and my plot background (some canon and some...not so canon).
> 
> Anyway, YOUR REVIEWS, REQUESTS, DEMANDS, and CRITICISM (try not to be mean to the kid though *puppy eyes*) are very much appreciated, and I'll try to correct my mistakes and accommodate your demands as much as I can without disturbing the plot too much. So feel free to comment if you want a certain scene more elaborated, or you want more of a character, or you want me to add something. I promise that I'll try my best to accommodate these. Ask questions if you have any, I'll reply. Also, feel free to point out typos, loopholes etc. If you feel that a plot point is not explained properly, say it and I'll do the editing. However, if a loophole is deliberately left and will be explained later then I'll inform you.
> 
> Also, as we proceed in the story, I'll ask for your suggestions and conduct polls for certain decisions ( like who you want dead and who you want me to save), which can be adjusted within the plot on the basis of the readers’ demands.
> 
> It will be a long fic and will have sequels too, so be patient because some things will be explained in the sequel, or maybe major plot differences will occur in the sequel.  
> HAPPY READING!!!

It was a beautiful summer day in Surrey. The sky was clear, the trees in the park were swaying to the soft breeze. Lush green, freshly cut grass along with the faint fragrance of blossoming flowers, and the mellow sound of chirping birds created an overall relaxing atmosphere.

Harry was sitting on a bench in the park, tapping his fingers against his knees, impatiently waiting for his godfather. It was a nice day that day. In fact, it was the best! And that meant something since he had had many amazing days this summer. Reason? Sirius.

Two days after summer had started, Harry received a letter from Sirius, telling him that he’ll be there in no time if Harry ever needed him for anything. Harry was rather touched by the gesture, seeing as he didn’t have many adults in his life who were actually concerned about him. And none who would care enough to leave everything for him and come to his rescue without a second thought. Even if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley cared for him and had practically taken him into their family, still, they weren’t…his, and he wasn’t theirs. No matter how close they were, he will never be their son. And who was to say that if tomorrow, Harry makes a terrible mistake, they would still love him? Sirius, however, was his godfather, his only real family, and it was something that won’t change. EVER. That realization made Harry feel giddy with happiness, even after two months of his reunion with his godfather.

And so, Harry immediately sent a reply to Sirius, suggesting that—if Sirius wants to—they could spend time together in the park near no. 4. He could easily change to his animagus form if there was any threat of recognition, making it seem like an everyday person taking his dog for a walk.

Harry was hesitant in the beginning about making such a request, afraid that he would be denied or that Sirius won’t be able to make it unnoticed, or worse — that Sirius didn’t want to spend time with him. But eventually, he managed to gather his Gryffindor courage and asked Sirius to visit him because he really wanted to get to know his godfather. And Sirius, always the adventurous man that he was, was ready to take the risk and was thrilled with the idea of spending time with his Prongslet.

Thus, the time and date were decided, and three days later Harry met Padfoot in the park for their ‘walk’. Since then, they had been meeting almost every day.

Harry’s summer was filled with long walks in the nearby muggle town and talking to Sirius about the adventures of the Marauders while eating the leftovers sent to them by Mrs. Weasley or the takeaways Sirius brought along with him from various muggle shops.

Apparently, Gringotts didn’t care if you were a criminal. If a wizard was taking money from their own vaults and not creating disturbance in the bank, they wouldn’t turn them in if they didn’t step into the bank. Sirius still had access to his personal vaults, even if the Black vaults were frozen, so he could easily ask for money from there through owl, and Hedwig was always happy to help him. 

The first thing he did with his money, much to Harry’s protest, was to buy him new clothes that fit. Harry would never have imagined Sirius to be a vain person. But he was. And it increased tenfold when it came to shopping for his godson. They spent two sodding days, two extremely tiring and annoying days, fishing through the most expensive muggle stores for the most fashionable clothes—including casuals, semi-formals, formals, night wears, and, much to Harry’s embarrassment, undergarments—, matching shoes for all occasions, ties and other accessories, bags, hair care, and whatnot. It didn’t end there though. The next day, Sirius dragged Harry through the entire posh section of the Diagon Alley, all the while wagging that sodding furry tail of his, to buy wizard robes and cloaks—again, including casual, formal and semi-formal—, all sorts of dragonhide boots and dress shoes because, according to him, Harry must look equally hot in wizarding outfits. That bastard. And when Harry thought the torture was finally over, Sirius insisted on buying leather outfits because a teenager needs to have proper outfits for wild parties.

When Harry’s protests grew with the increasing bills—because he really didn’t want Sirius to pay when he himself could—Sirius asked, “Would you have stopped James from paying?” And when Harry didn’t have an answer to that, he simply said, “I am not doing anything which I wouldn’t do for my son,” which shut Harry up. He didn’t know what to say to that because, in a way, Sirius had just called him his son. He forgot all his protests about shopping and bills because he was busy grinning like a loon the whole day. His heart was filled with so much happiness from the fact that Sirius so casually regarded him as his son, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, that Harry didn’t even make a fuss when he was taken for a haircut, or when he was pushed into St. Mungo's (because you can’t take a dog in a hospital) for getting his eyes fixed. The next week actually went by in a haze. All Harry could think about was Sirius calling him his son and actually loving him like one. He had to bite his tongue on several occasions to keep himself from calling Sirius ‘Dad’ because he really didn’t know how Sirius would react to the title.

Apart from talking, eating, and wandering around through muggle streets on Sirius’ newly repaired bike, which looked even better than it originally did (courtesy of Remus John Lupin, the man was a genius), they wrote letters to Moony, who couldn’t visit them more than a couple of times because the ministry was keeping a watch on him, hoping to catch Sirius. Moony’s replies were as enthusiastic as ever, although still written in a very polite and calm tone. How he managed to accommodate such opposing emotions in a letter, was beyond the dark-haired pair. Although, it was always amusing to watch Sirius cower and flinch away from the letters when Remus expressed his disapproval, in rather creative ways, about certain things that Sirius insisted on teaching Harry (which were the accounts of seven detailed volumes of ‘Marauders through the ages—An expert guide for pranksters, complete with step by step instructions and necessary spells), not that it stopped Sirius from telling him all the tips and secrets, mind you. However, it was not funny at all when it was Harry’s turn to be grilled by Remus. The wolf’s talent of sounding dangerous with such polite words, in a sodding letter, was scary, very scary. And Sirius never failed to laugh at Harry and rub it in his face.

Harry and Sirius actually gambled on who was going to get it worse in the next letter, when they did something which Remus would clearly disapprove of, and then bet again on when Remus would find out about them gambling on him, and then again bet on who would have it worse once he did find out. The whole thing was rather ridiculous, but Harry wouldn’t want it any other way.

It was not only fun and games though. When Harry and Sirius had met Remus for the first time, in the second week of summer, to get Sirius’ bike from him, Harry had made the mistake of confessing that Remus was the best DADA teacher Harry had ever had and asked for his help with the subject. Remus had spluttered and blushed furiously, but once he got over his shock, he made it a personal mission to make his honorary godson ace DADA.

And since then, his letters were accompanied by books and notes. Harry had to send his homework to Remus to get it checked, and Remus was far more thorough about the subject when it came to teaching his godson.

As if all of this was not enough, Sirius started helping Harry with his transfiguration and charms homework when asked, and then went on to giving him extra training too, along with making him practice the spells mentioned in Remus’ notes, and also with his (Sirius’) own wand when Harry had tried to weasel his way out of extra work by mentioning the trace.

Harry knew that Remus was the studious mastermind of the Marauders, but he shouldn’t have underestimated Sirius when it came to academic excellence. After all, he had finished all his NEWTs with Os and Es and became an animagus at the age of 14, which was something many aged and powerful wizards failed to accomplish, and then went on to becoming an Auror, all the while playing pranks on the whole school and being rebellious, with a war hanging over his head.

However, Harry wasn’t complaining. Lessons with Sirius were damn funny and didn’t feel like studying at all, and Remus’ notes were so thorough and easy to understand that Harry had already mastered some of the most difficult theories and concepts of his curriculum. His spell casting and aim had also improved with his newly obtained eyesight and Sirius breathing down his neck. He already knew many tricks that Aurors used. His homework was completed and checked thoroughly by both Remus and Sirius (with lots of good-natured insults from Sirius). His knowledge and spellwork in DADA, charms, and transfiguration had improved by a few notches, and he felt far more confident about his magical abilities. He was already ahead in his curriculum, and his grades were surely going to rise substantially in the coming year. All in all, it had been the most productive summer, and Harry felt like his head would explode from all the knowledge he had gathered in such a short time (not that it was difficult to keep it all in; his understanding of the basic theories through Remus’ notes had made remembering everything far easier than otherwise possible).

But no matter how exhausted Harry got after a long day—which started with a morning run (Sirius’ suggestion to improve his magical stamina and strength), followed by his morning ritual, a light breakfast, a few chores, then lunch, which was followed by four to five hours with Sirius until dinner, after which Harry spent two hours going through Remus’ books and notes, and revising whatever he had learned from his godfather, before going to bed—Harry was bloody happy. For the first time he had someone who reprimanded him when he did something wrong, corrected his mistakes without getting angry, listened to his problems, helped and checked his homework, pat him on the back when he had done a spell right, squeezed his shoulders and reassured him when he felt hopeless, expected things from him, not things like saving the world, but simple things like winning a Quidditch match or finishing his assigned work etc. For the first time, he had someone who could be proud of him, and if all this meant that he had to work hard, train well, learn more, then he would do it. And it was not like Sirius and Remus were burdening him with things beyond his control; they were helping him with his studies, supporting him with his work, cheering him up with their jokes, bribing him with takeaways, bike rides, and ice cream. And if all this meant feeling a bit exhausted at night, but not enough to ache, just enough to have a nice sleep, then be it. He would work his arse off to see Sirius and Remus smiling proudly at him. He finally had someone who loved him, dammit. His own little family of three. He’ll do it because, at the end of the day, when Harry was about to close his eyes, everything paled in comparison to the happiness and pure affection he felt for his two guardians in his heart and the broad smile that was plastered across his face all the time.

Speaking of a family of three, the Dursleys had not bothered Harry this summer, at all. They were scared shitless by the fact that Harry had a mass murderer and a wolf as his godfathers, and Harry hadn’t bothered to tell them that Sirius was innocent or that Remus only became a wolf once a month and was harmless otherwise. The fact that Harry had started using a bit of wandless magic, which was untraceable, left them in cold sweat, and Harry exploited his new skills at every chance he got. It was just too amusing to watch aunt Petunia gasp in horror, Dudley flinch every time when Harry’s fingers twitched, and uncle Vernon go purple with rage but not being able to do anything more than grunt. They stopped giving him chores, thinking that he would use magic while making food or cleaning their house. Uncle Vernon stopped raising his hand or manhandling Harry after he had sent a wandless tripping jinx his way after one such episode. He couldn’t even lock Harry in anymore because Sirius would barge into the house looking for him, out of pure worry, if he was late or missed their meeting. Dudley and his minions had stopped entering the park altogether. They had to remove the bars from his window too because they knew Remus sent him letters (Hedwig was really happy with the freedom). All Harry had to do was clean his own room, make his own breakfast and clean after it, and wash his clothes, which Dobby was just too happy to do for him since he was in no mood to ruin his outrageously expensive clothes. Vernon almost had a heart attack when he saw his new clothes, and Dudley still went red with jealousy. Harry couldn’t help but laugh in the privacy of his own room.

Harry still hadn’t said anything to Sirius about his life for the last twelve years with the Dursleys. He was sure that if Sirius found out that Harry had been neglected and abused all these years, he would surely become a murderer and put himself in Azkaban. For now, Sirius only thought that the neglect stopped at the clothes and other such luxuries. Because when Harry met him at the end of the third year, he had been at Hogwarts and eating well. He only had to manage a week on scrapes this summer, which he was easily able to hide from Sirius, before their meetings started, and the Dursleys were forced to let him eat breakfast and dinner as much as he wanted (he only had a light lunch because he mostly ate takeaways with Sirius after that).

Harry had told Sirius a carefully censored version of his life, completely omitting his childhood, although he was sure that Remus suspected it, but had said nothing apart from giving him pointed looks as if saying that if Harry didn’t tell him the truth soon then he would go all wolf on him. He also tried to gloss over his adventures of first and second year but to no avail. Since Remus had found out enough about what happened with Harry before he became the DADA professor from his head of house, he had no qualmns about telling Sirius all that. Although Sirius had laughed about the flying car incident and his fight with the troll, he wasn’t that thrilled about the Basilisk and the philosopher’s stone.

Harry had been given strict instructions about telling Sirius or Remus if anything happened, no matter what it was, how small the matter was, if it was weird or out of sorts or didn’t feel right, then he was supposed to owl them. After Harry’s account of Hogwarts, both men had lost their trust in Dumbledore and had warned Harry to be as vigilant as he can, and Sirius had become even more anxious to get Harry’s custody so that he could easily come to him if something happened.

Although both his guardians had waved off his concerns about his recent nightmares regarding Wormtail and Voldemort, Harry didn’t fail to notice that Sirius had started grilling him about his spellwork, wandless magic and auror tactics on vigilance, while Remus kept on reminding him to tell them if something happened, and the books accompanying his letters became thicker.  
He knew that hoping for a peaceful year was as farfetched as uncle Vernon growing a six-pack. But Harry wasn’t as bothered as he used to be with such things. He was more confident in his abilities to defend himself now, than he was in the previous years. What with him spending almost five hours learning stuff every day for the last two months? It was not like he was not anxious or scared of what surprises the coming year would bring with it. But the fact that both Sirius and Remus were ready to bite—quite literally— anyone who so much as touched their pup’s hair, put Harry’s mind at ease.

In short, the three had become a family in all but blood in the last two months. The only thing Harry hadn’t told them was about the Dursleys and him almost getting sorted into Slytherin. And Harry would keep that a secret for as long as he could.

Speaking of secrets, Harry was sure that Sirius was hiding something. He had never said much about his family, apart from them being ancient, pureblood, and associated with dark arts and being close followers of Voldie.

Harry always got the feeling that Sirius didn’t have a colorful childhood, although Harry always cut that train of thought. Thinking about Sirius suffering in any way, made Harry’s heart ache, and he would rather avoid the pain until he was sure of his assumptions.

It was really confusing though. It was as if Sirius was proud of his family but not his family members. He had already told him a lot about pureblood customs and family history. And would teach him more about his duties as the lord of the Potter family, as a member of the Wizengamot, and how to handle his legal and financial issues later, when he would be about to come of age and would have to attain his lordship.

Apparently, Harry was the sole heir of one of the wealthiest families of wizarding Britain, and would also take over the Black fortune after Sirius. Harry was shocked to know that the vault he had seen in his first year, which was enough to last a lifetime, was secured only for his school supplies during an emergency and was only a drop in the ocean of the Potter fortune, and the same went for the Black fortune. However, he could take over these when he turned 17. He couldn’t access his properties and vaults yet since they were sealed until the next lord took over, and Sirius couldn’t locate the properties due to ancient wards. As far as the Black vaults and properties were concerned, they were frozen until Sirius was proven innocent.  
All this meant that he had a LOT more to learn in the coming summers. He was just glad that he wouldn’t turn into some bigoted pompous fool since Sirius wouldn’t let that happen. But Harry would have preferred driving lessons for riding Sirius’ bike than lessons in history and politics.

His thoughts were interrupted when he caught movement from the corner of his eyes.

He whirled around with lightning speed, wand raised, jaw set, eyes alert, and a curse on his lips, only to be tackled to the ground by a huge furball. Said furball was wagging its tail madly and was licking his face and drooling all over his shirt. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at his godfather’s antics and his special way of greeting him.

With much effort, he finally managed to stop Padfoot’s assault and sit up. Face flushed, hair disheveled, breathing hard, and still trying to stifle his laughter.

Padfoot turned back to Sirius and sat cross-legged in front of him on the grass. He had a wide grin on his face and his eyes were dancing with mirth.

“Where is Remus?” Harry asked, looking around for any sign of the wolf. “He promised to meet us today.”

“He’ll be here any minute now,” Sirius replied, while he busied himself with taking out and enlarging the takeaway boxes to their normal size. “Had to make sure that Aurors can’t follow him.”

Not soon after the words had left Sirius’ mouth, they heard the crack of apparition. They turned their heads to see Remus walking towards them. He smiled at them when he was close enough while pocketing his wand.

“Hey pup,” he gave Harry a warm smile and ruffled his hair. Once he was settled down as well, he gave him an expectant look. “What was the good news you wanted to tell us?”

At this, Sirius looked up from where he had just finished arranging the takeaway boxes and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Harry’s face lit up, and he could feel himself bouncing a little in excitement.  
His mood had his godfathers sharing suspicious looks, so he decided to finally break the news before they could conclude that Harry had gotten himself into trouble. Again.

“I’m going to the Quidditch World Cup!” he tried and failed to conceal the look of absolute joy that spread across his face. “Mr. Weasley managed to get some tickets through his connections in the ministry, and I am invited to join them. Ron sent a letter yesterday. I think Hermione is joining us too!”

“That’s great, pup!” Sirius exclaimed, and Remus nodded in agreement. “Good that I got today’s takeaway from your favorite place then,” Sirius said while handing him a box of noodles. “This calls for a little celebration!”

The three of them dug into their meals, and a comfortable silence fell upon them which was only broken by small talk about random day-to-day stuff.

It was only after they were done eating, and the empty packages were vanished, that both men gave Harry a look, and he immediately realized that Remus had gone into professor mode and Sirius was about to go all Auror on him.

It was times like these that reminded him that he had managed to find himself guardians who were a bit—okay, a lot—more protective than normal parents, and that he was dealing with an Alpha Werewolf and a former Auror, who had managed to stay sane through twelve years in Azkaban and escape from it relatively unscathed.

“So,” Remus started, “how is your training regarding wandless magic going?”

Harry tilted his head and gave them a cocky smile, which had Remus’ eyebrows shooting up in challenge and Sirius frown in confusion.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated hard on controlling his magic. A few minutes later he heard Remus take a sharp breath and Sirius gasp and knew that he had succeeded in a nonverbal, wandless warming charm, without even lifting a finger.

He opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow—a habit he had picked up from Sirius—at the god smacked expressions on his godfathers’ faces. Remus’ eyes had turned as wide as saucers, and Sirius was spluttering like a fish. Harry was rather pleased with their reactions.

Remus was the first one to compose himself and managed to croak out a feeble, “How?”

Harry gave them a crooked smile but soon turned sober as he tried to sort out his thoughts and find the right words to explain his little experiment. Sirius had managed to stop spluttering but was still speechless when Harry started. “The book that Remus gave me about the magical theory behind performing magic explained that I needed to imagine my magical core—just like Sirius tells me to do during my animagus training—and feel my magic flow through my wand hand while thinking of the incantation in my mind to perform the spell. Am I correct?”  
When Remus simply nodded, still in shock, he continued, “It just occurred to me that the book simply said to use our wand hand but didn’t specify anything else. Which means that one can channel their magical flow through either hand since there are both left- and right-handed wizards. So I tried focusing my magical flow through my left hand too. It took longer and did result in a few accidents, but it finally worked. I think those few people who have managed to master wandless magic never bothered with their non-wand hand. And maybe, it’s because we are so used to having our magic flow through our wand-hand that it’s easier to do wandless magic with it instead of doing it with our other hand. It’s similar to our writing habits, you see.

“Which got me thinking that there are people who can write with both hands, and so I tried the same with my magic, and it worked! Although it still takes a tad bit more effort, I think it’s a matter of practice,” Harry finished.

“But…but…you didn’t…I mean—,” Sirius tried.

“Raise your hand,” Remus finished, and Sirius nodded furiously.

“It’s the same thing, you see. The concept remains the same. I just let my magic flow through my entire body so that I can release it from my body itself instead of just my arms. It’s more like…how could I explain? Accidental magic? Yes. Only more controlled and conscious.” He bit his lip and waited for both men to say something. He didn’t know if he made any sense, but he had tried his best to explain it in words.

Their expressions weren’t giving anything away, though. And Harry was getting more nervous as the minutes passed. He anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, thinking that he had made a fool of himself and was cursing himself for being so cocky in the beginning. He was still looking down at his lap when Sirius’ voice broke through his dark thoughts.

“Wow,” he breathed, a dazed expression on his face. “I think it’s just…just—,”

“Amazing!” Remus gushed. “That’s amazing, Harry!” he repeated, and Harry realized that Remus was impressed and awed and proud and excited, all at the same time. And Sirius was no better. Harry turned to face Sirius, who had finally managed to get his bearings enough to string a sentence.

“Wouldn’t that magically exhaust you though?” Sirius said, frowning. “I know you are powerful enough to spread your magic throughout your body and use it and still manage to stay upright for a long time. But wouldn’t that be too risky? I mean…what if the amount of magic you release is far more than you intended to, and you exhaust yourself, or it goes wild, or,” Sirius gulped, “does far more damage than intended. And…no offense, Harry, but…magic as powerful as yours can be disastrous if gone wild.”

Harry looked at Remus to see the same concern etched on his face and gave both men a reassuring smile. “I know those things can happen, and that’s why I had to concentrate so much. I mean…to control the magical flow, that is. It’s tiring anyway. I have only tried this twice, and I can already feel a dull headache. Ensuring that my control is perfect takes a lot out of my little head. So don’t worry,” he waved off their concerns, “I will practice it only when it’s safe and won’t use it until it’s an emergency. Okay?”

Both men didn’t look convinced, but after a shared eye-to-eye conversation (Harry hated it when they did that, it made him feel like a kid) they finally decided to drop it.

“I need to tell you something,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not something bad,” he added hastily when he caught the worried looks both canines were sending his way. “In fact, it’s something good, really,” he tried to reassure them.

“After what you just showed us,” said Remus skeptically, “I’m not sure if I even want to understand your definition of ‘something good’.”

Sirius looked amusedly at Remus’ expression, and Harry couldn’t really blame him. Remus was looking at Harry as if expecting him to say that he had killed Voldemort and wanted suggestions on where to hide his body.

Harry shook his head, amused by the fact that they immediately expected the worst. Was he really so prone to trouble? Yes. Yes, he was. He shook his head again to get back to the present. “I felt my animagus form yesterday,” he stated, “and I need your help to identify it.”

“What?!” Sirius’ jaw dropped. “But you only started last week! It’s…I mean…it takes at least a month!”

Remus shook his head and sighed deeply, “Honestly, why am I not even surprised?”

“Oi! Are you going to help me or not?”

That snapped Sirius out of his haze, and he rubbed his hands together in glee, “Come on pup. Spill it. Now!” he commanded impatiently. He was so thrilled with the idea, it was as if he himself was the one who was about to transform for the first time and not Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to remember the feelings he had experienced when he had managed to understand the nature of his magical core. “I felt warm, but my surroundings were cold.” He started slowly, trying to be as eloquent as possible. “It was night time, and I could smell trees, like in a forest. And I felt large, maybe around 5 feet or something when I was on all fours, and even taller when I was standing on my hind legs. And I am sure I felt thick fur on my body,” he paused before continuing, not sure if he should tell them this part or not, but decided to go ahead anyway, “I was running. And not simply running from a predator but…I was running towards something…or someone,” Harry blushed furiously at this part and mumbled something incoherent which both adults didn’t catch.

Sirius frowned, not sure what to make of his pup’s behavior.

Remus, always the epitome of patience, gently squeezed Harry’s shoulder and said softly, “Harry? You know you can tell us anything, don’t you?” Harry nodded mutely, not meeting his eyes. “And we won’t judge you?” again a mute nod. “And we won’t leave you,” another nod. “And, whatever your form is, we won’t think any less of you.”

Harry finally looked at him with wide open eyes, which had so many emotions going through them. Happiness, love, relief, gratitude. He took a deep breath and nodded, showing that he was okay. “I was running towards you,” Harry blushed again, but forced himself to keep his voice even, “I mean…you, and Sirius…and Hermione…,” he trailed off when he saw the unreadable expression on Remus’ face.

Remus’ eyebrows had shot up into his hairline, and Harry was sure he had recognized his Animagus form.

Sirius’ brows were wrinkled in concentration. Probably going through a list of potential animals, Harry thought. He saw the exact moment when the puzzle pieces finally clicked in Sirius’ head, and his eyes went wide before he burst out laughing.

Harry scowled. This really was getting frustrating. He didn’t know whether he should celebrate or give up on the whole sodding thing. A laughing Sirius could mean anything. It could mean that his form was really good. Or it could mean that his form was so funny that Sirius was having a laughing fit over it. And the fact that Remus only cocked an amused eyebrow at him wasn’t helping AT ALL.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Well?” he asked, in the perfect imitation of Remus when he was in his I-won’t-take-your-shit-anymore mood, but it only made Sirius laugh harder.

“Oh, Merlin! This is priceless!” Sirius said, trying to stifle his laughter while wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. He turned to Remus with wide, mischievous eyes and shouted, “Our pup is actually going to be a pup, Remus! A PUP!”

“Oi! I said I was huge.” Harry pouted.

Remus chuckled, “Your form is a wolf, Harry.”

“What?” Harry uncrossed his arms and asked, “You mean a wolf wolf?”

“YES!” Sirius laughed, and Remus nodded in agreement.

Now even Harry couldn’t help but find the whole thing hilarious. He would turn into a puppy, quite literally, at least until his form grew completely. And Remus and Sirius were both large canines, who referred to him as their pup. And then he went on to imitate the werewolf.

Well, he thought, they were a family even in their animagus forms. And the realization made Harry smile. He just found a new incentive to complete his transformation as soon as possible.  
He was brought out of his musing when Remus suddenly got up after he checked the time. “I am afraid I have to say goodbye now,” he said with a rueful smile.

“Did you bring it?” Sirius asked while getting up and absently helping Harry on his own feet.

Remus nodded and handed him a small parcel. He then moved forward and gave Sirius a tight hug, who returned the gesture just as fiercely while rubbing his hands on Remus’ back in soothing circles. “See you soon, Pads,” he said, “Write to me when we can meet again, yeah?”

Sirius nodded against the werewolf’s shoulder before reluctantly letting go. And Harry noticed that the pureblood’s grey eyes had gone suspiciously wet.

Then Remus turned to face Harry, who looked down at his shoes while awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot.

Harry didn’t know what to do. Remus wasn’t a touchy person and expressed his emotions in more reserved ways (except for when it came to Sirius). He wasn’t a bear hug giving, outright laughing, back patting type of a person—that was Sirius. No. Remus was more of a shoulder squeezing, warmly smiling, and hair ruffling type.

But all that seemed really…less important, considering, that it will be the last time he would see the hazel-eyed man before going back to school, and the thought made his chest feel tight all of a sudden. He wondered, for the first time, if this was how his friends felt when they left for school after every summer, or if it was just him.

Harry’s mental debate came to an abrupt halt when he felt strong arms envelop him in a warm hug. He breathed in the calming scent of tea, old books, and fresh parchment which was Remus, and smiled against the soft fabric of his robes. He gingerly wrapped his arms around the older man and felt a tight knot uncoil in his chest when he wasn’t pushed away immediately.

After a few moments, Remus gently pulled Harry at arm’s length and squeezed his shoulders. With one last smile to him and Sirius, he turned and disapparated with a crack.

Harry and Sirius just stood there silently for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts, when Sirius cleared his throat and held out the package to Harry. When Harry raised an eyebrow, he simply pushed the package into his hands and looked away, not meeting his godson’s eyes.

“What is it?” Harry asked, looking at the package suspiciously.

“Just a late birthday present,” Sirius said, dismissively, while burying his hands in his pockets, looking at everything, but Harry.

“But, you already—!” he started but was cut off when Sirius held up his hand.

“Just take it Harry.” he said firmly, in a voice that clearly left no space for arguments, “It’s something you would need.”

Harry frowned but didn’t argue any further. Sirius rarely went…serious on Harry, and he wasn’t about to be disrespectful to his godfather. He opened the package and found a beautifully wrapped box inside it. He carefully took the box out and held it in his hands. It was a rectangular box, roughly the size of his palm—in terms of both, length and width—, and only about one to two inches in height. It was wrapped in a shiny silver wrapper and had a bow, made out of a soft black material, over it.

He gingerly unwrapped the box and opened it to reveal a wallet. Harry stared at it, wide-eyed; it wasn’t a regular wallet, he was sure of it.

He lightly brushed his hands over the leathery surface of the wallet and simply felt it beneath his fingers. It was made of dark blue leather, almost black. But the look was extremely unique. It was as if the initial color of the material was similar to that of an Occamy. He looked closer and gasped. It was Occamy skin, a creature which was extremely rare. And not just that, it was polished with a layer of something else, which made its shade turn dark, almost black, that showed silver under the sunlight, but still managed to sustain the original dark turquoise blue color of Occamy leather. It was the most amazing leather he had ever seen. Its color shifted from jet black with a silver shine to the dark turquoise blue of the Pacific Ocean when seen from different angles and under different light. There were no designs on the exterior of the wallet except for the small logo of the head of a stag—complete with delicately carved antlers—made out of pure silver (probably the kind obtained from Occamy eggs), attached at the bottom right side, on the front flap of the wallet. It was just like his father’s Patronus. Just under the logo, written with the same pure silver metal, were the initials of his name—H.J.P. The edges of the wallet were coated with the same metal, giving it a classy look. The thing was a black beauty. Everything in it spoke of money and magic.

“Sirius, this is—,” he couldn’t even finish. Because he really didn’t have anything to say. He was struck dumb by what he was holding in his hands and couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“It’s a wizarding wallet,” Sirius explained, “It was used when Gringotts was newly opened centuries ago. So only the ancient families can get one made for themselves. However, these aren’t used anymore since not many can afford them. They always look like an ordinary flip wallet from outside, but their inner pockets and flaps increase according to your needs. They are custom-made and are integrated with a wizard’s magical signature, which means, apart from you, no one can remove its content. Anything inside this,” he continued, pointing at the wallet, “cannot be damaged, no matter what. They cannot be stolen, because they always follow the magical signature. Distance, wards, locks, nothing can stop it from appearing next to you within two weeks of it going missing, maximum. They are goblin-made and thus have a lifetime guarantee. Of course, many people sell various types of wizarding wallets, but this one is an authentic piece. It’s basically an antique heirloom. I hope I don’t need to spell out that you need to be careful with it,” Sirius warned, giving Harry a stern look. “Not that anything can happen to it. And goblins are obliged to repair or replace it since it’s a matter of their reputation. However, it’s a matter of respect and responsibility.”

Harry gulped. The fact that he was holding a priceless heirloom was a bit overwhelming. And he really couldn’t accept something like this from Sirius. But he didn’t want to seem like he was running away from a responsibility. And Sirius has made it quite clear that it was his, period. It will follow him and is nothing but a showpiece for anyone else.

“It was made on the orders of your grandfather,” Sirius continued, “It’s an old tradition, you see. Where the newborn heir is presented with something valuable from the lord of the family. The heir is supposed to protect it and pass it on to the next generation. It was both, a mark of the family’s prestige and a lesson of respect and responsibility towards the family. James was presented with the invisibility cloak, the most ancient heirloom in your family, which he passed on to you, while you were presented with this. It was to be handed to you by James or your grandfather, once you become old enough to handle it. However, since they didn’t…,” he trailed off. “Anyway, I was given its activation spell as your godfather. And my magic was authorized by James to enable me to give it to you when the time comes,” he finished.

“Oh!” was all Harry managed to breathe. The whole thing was too much to grasp at once. The importance of the present and the sentiments behind it were still sinking in. He looked at the wallet in a new light. It was a gift from his grandfather. A mark of his heritage. A connection to his lost family. He didn’t know what to say and was speechless when he looked up at Sirius with bright green eyes.

“My gift is already inside it,” Sirius said, “It’s a magical money card and is connected to my vault…No…let me finish. It’s for your monthly allowance. Was Remus’ idea, said I need to act more like a responsible guardian and ensure that I don’t spoil you. Not that it will ever happen, duh. Anyway, every month I’ll transfer only a fixed amount into that card. Whether you spend it in one day or choose to save it, is up to you. However, I trust you to not take money from your own vault till…no listen first…it’s to keep your spending habits in check. As a guardian it’s my duty to ensure that you don’t depend too much on your inherited vaults and slack off from making actual efforts. Am I clear?” He finished, giving Harry a stern look.

“Yes,” Harry said in his most sincere voice. Although it was weird to see Sirius going into the responsible father mode, it still felt good to know that Sirius was being strict where it was actually needed. In a way, it made him seem more like a father figure who would love him but also keep him on track. It made Harry feel safe, knowing that Sirius was making an effort to become responsible for his sake.

“I have put our photos in it,” Sirius said, pointing in the general direction of the wallet. He averted his eyes from Harry’s, who realized with a start that Sirius was nervous. “All of us…,” he continued, looking flustered, still avoiding Harry’s eyes, “James, Lily, Remus and…me…you can remove the ones you don’t want…obviously…” he continued to ramble. “I just thought that you would…you know—”

Harry cut Sirius off by jumping on him and squeezing him in a tight hug. He buried his face in Sirius’ chest and was instantly surrounded by the scent of ash and soil after the first rain. He felt Sirius resting his chin on his head; his arms coming up to hug him back just as tightly, as he patted Harry's back and gently rocked him back and forth like a precious baby.

“It’s time for me to go, pup,” Sirius whispered, softly, but did not make any effort to move from his position. Harry just hugged his godfather tighter and buried his face deeper into his robes, if that was even possible.

Sirius chuckled, but it sounded a bit watery, “write to us whenever you can, and don’t forget to place your bets, yeah.”

Harry tried to smile, but it suddenly became difficult. His chest felt tight and his heart felt heavy. His vision became blurry, and he realized with a start that he was crying. He really will miss Sirius. A LOT. For the first time he wasn’t so excited about going to Hogwarts, the place he called home.

“Be safe,” Sirius mumbled into Harry’s hair, “Always carry your map and cloak with you. Practice what we have taught you, and tell us if something happens, okay?” he continued softly, “And always remember that we are just a call away,” he was now running his fingers through Harry’s hair. “Tell us if you ever feel like meeting us; we promise to keep our schedules clear on Hogsmeade weekends.”

With every word Sirius said, Harry felt as if his heart would burst. He suddenly felt such a huge rush of affection for his godfather that he couldn’t control his tears anymore. With so many emotions going through his heart and so many words going through his clogged brain, he didn’t know what to say. Where to begin and where to end. So he gathered all of his Gryffindor courage and decided to finally settle for something which had already been going through his mind since that offhanded comment Sirius made while they were out shopping.

“I’ll miss you,” Harry mumbled, and took a deep breath before adding, in a voice just above a whisper, “Dad.”

Sirius froze.

Harry shut his eyes tightly, and clutched Sirius’ robes at his back into fists. He was so scared that Sirius would push him away that he didn’t even realize that he was holding the older man in a death grip. This is it, he thought. This is where everything will either get better, or shatter.

His blood was racing in his veins and his heart was thudding against his ribcage. With every second that passed with no action from Sirius, Harry’s anxiety grew. And his traitorous brain kept conjuring horrible scenarios.

Until Sirius’ hand started brushing through his hair again, as if nothing out of ordinary had happed, and he simply responded, “I’ll miss you too, son,” as if it’s the most natural thing to say, and then went back to rocking him back and forth.

In that moment, the Quidditch World Cup didn’t seem so appealing, and Hogwarts didn’t feel like home anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do leave COMMENTS AND REVIEWS!!


	2. Princess' Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The celebration of the World Cup turns into shambles. Draco tries to protect his sister, will he succeed?

Harry stumbled out of the Weasley kitchen fireplace and barely managed to avoid falling face first on the floor.

“Did he eat it?” Fred asked excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, straightening up. “What was it?” he asked, remembering the mayhem that had occurred at the Dursleys.

“Ton- Tongue Toffee,” Fred said brightly. “George and I invented them, and we’ve been looking for someone to test them on all summer…”

The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked and saw that Ron and George were sitting at the wooden table with two red-haired people Harry had never seen before, though he knew immediately who they must be: Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers.

“How are you doing, Harry?” the closer of the two said, grinning at him and holding out a large hand, which Harry shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers. This had to be Charlie who worked with dragons in Romania. His build was like the twins, shorter than Percy. He had broad shoulders, tanned skin, and a muscular body; quite handsome in Harry’s opinion.

Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry’s hand. Bill came as something of a surprise. Harry had expected to see someone uptight about rules, like Percy, when he had heard about Bill being a curse breaker in Gringotts and that he had been Head Boy at Hogwarts. Bill was rather…cool, with his long hair, handsome face, fang earrings, and dragon hide boots. The whole punk rock look reminded him of the rebellious teen Sirius from the photos of his parent’s album. Harry immediately liked the elder Weasley.

“You aren’t what I expected?” Harry smirked good-naturedly at Bill who laughed.

“I could say the same about you, Harry,” Bill said.

Harry looked down at himself. He had to agree, he was no more like the old awkward Harry, with big glasses, large clothes, undernourished body, and untamed hair. He had changed a lot over the summer. Sirius’ influence had done wonders to his self-confidence. All the exercise and good food had filled him up a bit. He was not tall and bulky like Ron, but his slim body and lean muscles on his sleeker build had made him easy on the eyes. His lack of glasses made his bright emerald eyes more noticeable on his pale face. His hair was still messy, but now it was more like…fashionably messy, with his fringes falling freely on his forehead. The haircut he got, had made his hair look styled. They were still long enough to hold in a grip, but not enough to touch his shoulders or tie in a ponytail. And his outfit was doing nothing to deter his looks. He was wearing a pair of slim fit black jeans, which were slightly ripped at his knees and a gray hoodie with a thick cowl neck and a casual cashmere black overcoat. His black high ankle dragon hide boots with silver buckles were finishing the overall attire.  
He had tried really hard to find the plainest clothes among his extravagant stack, knowing that Ron wouldn’t react well to his new lifestyle. But he had unknowingly managed to look extremely hot and casually elegant.

He looked around and saw the twins looking at him curiously. They must have missed his changes earlier due to the fiasco at the Dursleys and Bill’s words must have pointed out the obvious. He nervously looked at Ron to see his reaction.

Ron was frowning at him, a look of confusion on his face, along with curiosity and something else that Harry couldn’t name. That look did nothing to ease Harry’s worries; he just hoped that his friend would be happy for him instead of being jealous. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship over something so petty.

“Err…I like your earrings,” Harry complimented, trying to divert the topic of the conversation away from him.

“Thanks,” Bill said brightly, hand going to touch the said piece of jewelry. “I have more like these if you would like to have a look?”

“Sure,” Harry said. Anything to avoid awkward interrogation.

Just then, Mr. Weasley apparated beside George, looking angrier than ever, and started shouting about how their behavior jeopardizes wizard-muggle relations.

“Come on, Harry. Let’s leave before it gets ugly,” Bill said, placing a hand on his shoulder and edging him towards the staircase while pulling Charlie to tag along.

Soon they reached his and Charlie’s room. Harry sat on one of the beds while Charlie sat across him on the other bed, and Bill went rifling through his cupboard at the corner of the room. He could hear Mr. Weasley shouting and then Mrs. Weasley had joined him. He couldn’t understand what the fuss was all about.

“What’s wrong? I have never seen them this angry over pranks before,” Harry said.

“Mom is furious at them. They didn’t score well in their O.W.L.s. And then she found a long price list of their inventions,” Charlie explained. “Apparently, they want to open their own joke shop while mom wants them to work at the Ministry like dad and Percy.”

“But from what I have seen, their inventions are great, aren’t they? Shouldn’t she be, I don’t know…encouraging them?” The idea really had merit, as Zonkos was getting old and the market for joke stuff was huge.

Charlie sighed, “Yeah, we think so too. We tried to reason with her but it backfired on us. She riled Bill with her questions about marriage or when I will leave the Dragon reserve and settle for a proper job,” the last words were said with bitterness.

“She burned the whole thing, you know,” Bill said as he sat beside Charlie with a box in his hand, which he handed over to Harry, “list and everything. They were quite upset about it.”

“That’s horrible!” Harry said, indignantly. He knew the feeling of getting your hard word destroyed by someone else. Dudley took great sadistic pleasure in doing that. And the thought of Mrs. Weasley doing something like this to her own sons made his stomach churn. A few weeks ago, Harry wouldn’t have been so scandalized by the whole thing, but after all the time he had spent with Sirius and Remus, he found her actions wrong and suffocating. He knew that if he had shown talent like the twins, then both his godfathers would have surely supported him.

“We know,” Bill huffed, “we ourselves barely managed to escape her controlling methods.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he chose to examine the box Bill had given him. He opened it and saw many unique pieces of jewelry arranged in smaller cases in the box. Some bracelets, and pendants, and more earrings, and danglers, as well as different types of hair ties. They all looked beautiful in a weird way, each piece was unique and had its own quality. Some were made of fangs, some with brightly colored stones, and others with all kinds of metals twisted into diverse shapes. He looked at them in awe, admiring the craftsmanship.

His adoration must have been clear on his face as Bill pipped in, “I collected them from the various treasuries I visit in Egypt. The owners let me take a few small things to show their gratitude. I mostly refuse, since I already get paid, but I just can’t resist these,” he said pointing towards the box, the excitement making the man look like a child showing his chocolate frog collection. “Go ahead. You can have one if you like.”

“Really?” Harry’s face lit up.

“Yeah,” Bill smiled.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I mean…they are all rare and antique and if you—”

“Don’t be shy, Harry,” Charlie cut in, “It’s kind of a ritual. He offers it to everyone who shows interest in his unique taste. I have one too,” he pulled out a chain with a dragon scale pendant.

“Oh. Okay,” Harry looked through the box but he couldn’t find anything that would suit him. He needed something for the single piercing in his left ear.

When Sirius had noticed his habit of running his hand through his hair, he had suggested getting a piercing, and Harry had readily agreed; he had always wanted one since he had seen it on Sirius in his album. Nothing too big or prominent like Bill’s fangs, just something small and subtle, which was only visible when one got a closer look or when he pulled his hair back while running his hand through it. So now, he had his left ear pierced and a few blue streaks of hair on the same side, a few inches above his ear, mostly hidden, and again only visible when he brushed through his hair.

Remus’ face had been priceless when he had seen it, and the glare he had given Sirius had him squirming like a trapped kitten (and Harry had won the bet about Remus not being happy with the new addition). Then he had composed himself and asked, in a frighteningly calm voice, why Sirius had found the need to get his thirteen-year-old godson a piercing and highlights. To which Sirius had nonchalantly put an arm around Remus’ shoulders and said, “Moonyyy, these are the things that distinguish between obnoxiously awkward and adorably nervous. How do you think I managed to woo everyone in our school days, huh?” which had been the absolute wrong thing to say. Remus had smacked Sirius straight across his head with a paper roll, and Harry had been prohibited from any kind of body manipulation until he turned sixteen, after which he could have all the tattoos he wanted. Harry sometimes wondered if Remus treated Sirius like a dog as an inside joke or if it just happened. His mind suddenly conjured an image of Remus holding a paper roll in front of Sirius in his dog form and scolding him, saying ‘bad doggy’.

He laughed at the thought, and both of the elder Weasleys looked at him curiously as if he had lost his marbles, and maybe he had.

That was when he noticed it. A silver snake wrap ear-cuff with little black stones as its eyes. It was perfect for his single ear piercing.

Harry, your Slytherin side is showing, a voice, which sounded suspiciously like Remus, chided him mentally.  
“I’ll have this one if that’s okay with you.” Harry raised the ear cuff to show it to both men.

“Of course,” Bill smiled. “Just place it on your ear and it will adjust itself.”

Harry removed his stud and brought the ear cuff near his ear, close enough for it to touch. He felt the cool sensation of metal around his ear and something passing through his piercing. He got up and went to the mirror on the wardrobe to get a better look.

The head of the snake was just over his ear cavity, as if peeking inside it, its body followed the outer curve of his ear cartilage and then twisted around as it went down to go through his piercing before its tail wrapped itself snuggly under his earlobe. It was like having a tiny snake wrapped around his ear.

“Wicked,” he heard Charlie say, as he came behind Harry.

Harry grinned at his reflection cheekily.

Just then there was a knock on the door and Bill barely had time to call enter before Harry had an armful of his bushy-haired friend.

“Missed you too ‘mione,” he mumbled into her hair and chuckled when she hit his arm playfully before pulling back.

“Honestly! We have been—” she stopped speaking when she finally got a proper look at Harry. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were blown wide as she took in his clothes, hair, ear cuff (Harry mentally snorted, so much for subtlety) and eyes. Her eyebrows were going higher and higher as she examined him. Operative word ‘examine’ because he really felt like a sample potion being examined before the customer decided to buy it. Harry really loved her, but her hunger to know everything was a real pain sometimes. Well, at least he was sure she would be happy for him. She always wanted him to make an effort in making himself look presentable.

He looked around and saw Ron grimacing at him. Oh shit! The oblivious git was jealous! Fucking jealous! Probably thinking that he would try to hit on Hermione. This didn’t bode well.

He looked over Ron’s shoulder and caught Ginny practically drooling at him. Oh, Merlin! He was in trouble! Why couldn’t Ginny get it through her thick head that he didn’t see her that way? They were almost siblings, damn it! And she was Ron’s sister! And even if she wasn’t, Harry didn’t want a fucking fangirl who wrote stupid valentine poems for him; he had enough of them already, thank you very much.

He looked back at Hermione, biting his lip, and waited for her reaction; she still hadn’t said anything.

“Um…‘mione?” Harry awkwardly waved his hand in front of her face. That brought her out of her haze and she smirked wickedly at him.

“I think you have a really interesting summer to share,” was all she said, before grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the door and above a few flights of stairs towards Ron’s room.

The rest of the day went by talking about Quidditch and homework and avoiding Ginny and her obnoxious flirting attempts. And Percy making not so subtle comments about some special event.

He was saved from talking about Sirius and his makeover as they couldn’t talk about the convict in front of others.

He told them about his summer as vaguely as possible. Hermione wasn’t falling for it but kept quiet as she understood that he couldn’t talk much in the present company.

Ron. Well, let’s just say, Harry had hoped for better. Ron and his conversations had been short and full of awkward silence. He had kept frowning, grimacing and scowling at Harry.

Harry didn’t care though. He had Hermione and he knew Ron would get over his jealousy and come around and everything would be back to normal.  
Hopefully.

***

Harry turned quickly, along with Ron and Hermione, to go to their still empty seats in the ministry box. After the weird conversation with the house-elf, Winky, and an awkward conversation with the Minister, Harry just wanted to enjoy the match.

Edging along the second row to three still empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby’s former owners: Lucius Malfoy along with the most beautiful blonde woman Harry had ever seen, who must have been his wife, who was holding the hand of a small child, around three to four years of age if you go by its height. Harry couldn’t make out if it was a boy or girl as he didn’t have a proper view from where he was standing.

Harry had seen Lucius Malfoy only three times in his life: once in Diagon Alley, where the man had mocked the Weasleys as he had slipped that cursed Dairy into Ginny’s cauldron and got into a fight with Mr. Weasles, next in Hagrid’s Hut when he came to get him arrested, and then at the end of the term when Harry got Dobby freed.

All three occasions had given Harry enough reason to hate the man. He was the epitome of filthy rich pureblood twats who followed the maniac mass murderer in the name of blood purity.

“Ah Fudge,” Mr. Malfoy said, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. “How are you? I don’t think you have met my wife, Narcissa? Or my daughter? I would have introduced my son as well but he is quite busy, school representation, you see?” Mr. Malfoy drawled.

“How do you do, how do you do?” Fudge said, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. “And allow me to…” Harry turned the rest of the fake pleasantries out in favor of talking to his friends.

“I didn’t know Lucius Malfoy had a son?” Harry said.

“Must be a slimy git like him,” Ron said acidly.

“Never seen him at school though,” Harry said. 

“Maybe we never noticed,” Hermione pointed out.  
Ron snorted.

“Really ‘mione. A Malfoy going unnoticed is like Neville suddenly turning into a Casanova,” Ron said.

“But he said his son is with school representation,” Harry said, confused.

“Must be in another school,” Hermione said.

“Another School?! There are other Wizarding schools? I thought Hogwarts was the only one.”

“Of course there are other Wizarding schools, Harry. You don’t think all Wizards go to Hogwarts, do you?” said Hermione.

Harry blushed. To which Hermione raised her eyebrows, clearly showing that she thought Harry was being stupid. Again.

“The git must be in Durmstrang,” Ron said. At Harry’s questioning look he continued, “The school is known for teaching dark arts, you know. I can totally imagine Malfoy’s spawn going around showing off how he goes to school with Victor Krum.”

“Ron, that’s highly presumptuous,” said Hermione, disapprovingly. “You are basically judging someone you haven’t even met just because his father happens to be Lucius Malfoy.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I mean, look at Sirius,”

“Sirius was in Gryffindor, mate!”

“So was Pettigrew,” Harry countered, his voice going hard.

“Seriously. After what his father did to Ginny—”

“Exactly, Ron. His father, not him!” said Harry, annoyed.

He pulled at his hair in frustration. He didn’t like the way Ron was making assumptions about Malfoy’s son. Isn’t that prejudice too, just against purebloods instead of Muggle-borns? Surely, even he could imagine Malfoy’s son being a pompous brat like him, but he had learned the hard way to not jump to conclusions without knowing the whole truth. Hadn’t this been what had landed Sirius in Azkaban without a trial? Everyone just assumed that he must have been the one to give up his parents to Voldemort because he was a Black and a pureblood. The whole event had been a tight slap on Harry’s face.

All these times he had judged Slytherins, thinking that they were bigoted prats, only to realize that his own self-righteous arse had been prejudiced the whole time because he was blinded by his hatred for Voldemort and his association with Slytherin. But who was going to reason with Ron? He was the one who had brainwashed Harry about Slytherins being slimy gits, and Harry had fallen for it without even bothering to look at it himself. Surely, most of the Slytherins like Nott, Grabbe, Goyle, and Pansy had made Harry’s life a living hell, but others had never bothered him apart from glaring or sneering at him. One had even been polite to Harry when he had been partnered with him in potions, what was his name…Blaize? Wasn’t it? The whole realization had left Harry bitter about himself, feeling stupid for being so naïve.

He had spent three years denying his Slytherin side and hating himself for it, only to realize how wrong he had been.

“But, Ginny almost died!” Ron said angrily.

“And so did I, Ron!” Harry ground out through greeted teeth.

Ron opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by the loud cheer as the match began. Harry turned his attention to the pitch, in no mood to continue the pointless conversation with Ron.

***

Draco was dozing off in his parents’ tent a few hours after the Quidditch World Cup match had culminated. The match had been awesome, if a bit tiring; the seats reserved for school representatives weren’t as good as the seats in the ministry box.

He would have taken his father’s offer to join them in the ministry box, but he wanted to enjoy the match with his friends, cheering and shouting, not being all well-mannered and introducing himself to various important dignitaries. As a Malfoy he would get many opportunities to improve his social standing, not that it wasn’t good already, students at Bauxbaton swooned over him and so did those who knew him here in England—which included the children of all elite pureblood families and politicians. He had been top of his class since he had started school, scoring straight Os in every subject, along with titles in dueling and potions, too bad his school didn’t have Quidditch or he would have cracked the pitch too.

No. He wanted to be free for once and enjoy the match. It was not every day that England hosted the Quidditch World Cup, and he was sure his father wouldn’t have appreciated Draco bringing Shambhavi along with him in such a high-class public gathering.  
Shambhavi Saddington, Draco smiled fondly at the memory of his one and only best friend in school. Surely he had many acquaintances, and he could have anyone he wanted, but all those people were fake followers who were only after him for his looks or money or the high social standing that came with being his friend.

Shambhavi was different though, she was like the French female version of his best friend Blaise Zabini who went to Hogwarts, only far more sassy, sarcastic, and blunt. The girl was capable of giving people lifelong burns with her mere words. And that was why Draco didn’t want her to meet his father. Shambhavi was a half-blood, her mother was a pureblood Indian who married her muggle-born French father and then settled with him in France. They were both journalists and worked for the most popular Wizarding fashion magazine in France—Biatche’, which was owned by the Malfoy family.

Draco was sure his father would have made some scathing remark about her blood status, but he wasn’t worried about her though; he was worried about how Shambhavi would have reacted. She would have said things which would have given his father enough embarrassment to last a lifetime, and he was in no mood to suffer through the impending fury of his father that would have followed the episode.  
That was what he loved about her, though. The girl had a razor-sharp tongue and had seen enough celebs and rich brats in her life to handle Draco and not drool over him. She herself was like a goddess and never took his vain shit. If Draco hadn’t been so gay, he would have dated her in an instant.

He remembered how he had pompously ordered her to drop the tome from her filthy hands because he wanted it, and she had just looked at him, blew her chewing gum bubble, popped it and sweetly said ‘Okay’ before dropping the tome, quite literally, on his feet. He had barely managed to not limp for the next week. And that had been the start of the craziest friendship in the History of France.

She herself wanted to go into media, and she was quite adept in the field already, the youngest member of the Bauxbaton yearly magazine editing board. She had a unique way with people. She could turn from as sweet as sugar to as sharp as a knife within seconds. If he had not been unprejudiced already, he was sure Shambhavi would have pulled his head out of his arse.

He was proud of his heritage and status, but he didn’t believe in pureblood supremacy like his father though. It all made it look like it was all inherited, and he himself didn’t possess any talent or skill. He liked attributing his accomplishments to his own hard work and intelligence instead of some genes that were passed onto him by his family. He was proud of his name and ancestry, but not because they were purebloods but because of what they had achieved in the past centuries and how all the Malfoys had worked to only add on to the list of laurels.

He had hoped to find real friends in France since he didn’t have many in England as they all either followed him like lost puppies or wanted to compete with him for some unspoken leadership which Draco possessed of their little army. But France had been no better. In fact, the Malfoy name was far more reputed there as no war had ever tarnished its image, and as Malfoys had originally been from France. And so he had to keep up the superior act that his father had engraved in him. He was just glad for the day he had decided to mess with Shambhavi, or he would have been one of those popular kids with a lonely personal life, not that it was any less lonely now.

He sighed and buried his head into the pillow to block out the noises and panicked shouts coming from outside the tent.

Wait. Panicked shouts?

That was when he saw his mother making her way towards his bed. To anyone, she would have looked like her normal stoic self, but Draco could see the worry and panic in her eyes as they moved frantically around the room, calculating something. He noticed her stiff posture and determined stride as she moved around their large tent. Gathering stuff and hastily dressing up his sleepy little sister—Lyra. He had seen his mother like this only a couple of times in his life, she was a really strong woman and it wasn’t easy to deter her composure, and the fact that she was worried about something put Draco on edge.

That was when he heard a loud shriek coming from just outside their tent.

“What is it, Mother?” Draco asked, anxious. He was already getting up from the bed and wearing his wand holster and shoes before adjusting his satin black shirt and grey slacks.

“Oh, Draco!” She quickly got up from where she was perched in front of his sister and moved towards him in two long strides. “Draco, listen to me carefully,” she ordered as she pushed his sister’s cloak in his hands. “You need to take Lyra and run away from here. Go to the woods, find somewhere safe, and stay there until I or your father come and get you.”

“But—” She raised her hand to stop him.

“We don’t have time for this, Draco. Death Eaters are outside, creating mayhem, and you need to—”

Draco’s eyes widened. “They can’t do anything to us!”

“Maybe not. But it’s still not safe for you and Lyra. We can’t risk you getting caught in the crossfire. You know very well what these people are capable of, Draco. You don’t want your sister becoming a victim, do you?”

He gulped the lump that had formed in his throat at the thought of anything happening to his baby sister. Draco could handle anything but his sister getting hurt would leave him devastated. He loved her more than anything and he knew that the Death Eaters wouldn’t recognize her as she wasn’t a Malfoy by blood. She looked far from one, with her deep purple-black hair and dark hazel eyes.

He nodded as he didn’t dare to speak, afraid that his voice would waver.

His mother gave him a small smile and edged him towards Lyra who was yawning and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her small fists. 

He perched on one knee in front of her, helping her with her fur boots and cloak as his mother called all the house-elves and ordered them to wind up the tent.  
He was getting up to grab his cloak when they heard another blast, far too close to their tent for their liking.

He got up quickly and picked up Lyra in his arms as she wrapped her small hands around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He looked at his mother, waiting for her to say something, anything.

She took his face into her delicate hands and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead before doing the same with Lyra. “Be safe,” she said softly as she stroked his hair, then practically pushed him out of the tent. “GO!”

He looked back at her one last time before gripping his sister tightly and running towards the forest. For some odd reason, he had a very bad feeling about all this, as if something really bad or drastic would happen that day.

Before the thought could even register in Draco’s mind, he felt more than saw a reductor curse coming his way. He ducked just in time to avoid it by mere inches, but the quick motion caused him to lose his grip on Lyra. 

The curse hit the tent right behind him, making it blast into shreds. Draco had just enough time to cast a strong shield on Lyra in the millisecond gap between the curse missing him and the blast before he was thrown back harshly from the impact.

He felt something sharp rip his left shoulder as red-hot pain shot through his entire left torso and warm blood trickled down his side and soaked his shirt. His body hit something hard, knocking the air out of his lungs, making the world look hazy.

The last thing he saw was a black-clad figure looming over his sister, and he thought about how he had failed to protect her before he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!!! *Grins evilly*
> 
> But I have good news. Next update will be made within the next 2 days.  
> I hope you like Harry's new look. Don't worry, I won't make him have anything too extra like tongue piercing so chill, the makeover ends here.
> 
> What do you think about Draco and his life at Bauxbaton? I tried my best to make it seem authentic. I did a thorough reading about the Malfoy Family and found out that they weren't originally British, so I used it my way (more to be revealed later). And we all love a French-speaking Draco, don't we?
> 
> Also, I hope I have justified Harry's reaction towards prejudice against purebloods or Slytherins quite well using Sirius. And I think it made sense. I didn't have Harry thinking all goodie about them because that would be too sudden. Tell me what you think?  
> Also, I mentioned Draco as a prodigy and heartthrob in the summary itself, so don't complain about it, and we all know that he can make anyone drool in Bauxbaton silk uniform. What do you think about Shambhavi? I personally think that she would be the perfect friend for Draco. I'll tell you from where I got the inspiration for her character if you guys like her *smiles shyly*.  
> And fuck it, man!!! Draco as a protective big brother had my heart melting, OKAY!!!  
> More about Lyra will be revealed in the coming chapters.
> 
> Leave Reviews!


	3. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Reading!! the chapter starts from the Death eater Riots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drarry Finally!! Sorry for the late update. Writing this chapter was more diffcult than i thought.

 

 

Harry, Ron and Hermione were running towards the woods to get away from the chaos behind them and to safety. People were running here and there, crying and shouting, panicked screams and terrified shrieks could be heard as the black clad, masked figures started blasting, cursing and burning anything in their vicinity.

They had been sleeping peacefully in their beds after celebrating the victory of Ireland in the world cup, when Mr. Weasley had woken them up and rushed them out of their tent before going to help the ministry, as the campsite was being ambushed by Death Eaters.

They were just on the edge of the forest when Hermione took out her wand to light the path ahead with a quick _lumos_. Harry fished through his coat pockets for his own wand to do the same when he realized, to his utter horror, that he didn’t have his wand.

“Shit!” he cursed, as he looked around frantically for any sign of his wand. He clearly remembered picking it up from the night stand, along with his wallet and watch, and putting it in his coat pocket before leaving the tent.

“What?!” Hermione asked.

“I can’t believe this…I lost my wand!” he said as he turned around to look for it.

“You’re kidding!” Ron exclaimed.

“Harry! Where are you--?” But Harry cut her off and looked at Ron, he will understand.

“Ron, take her and go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” He’ll just quickly look for his wand, he knew he had taken it and can’t lose it in a situation like this.

“We are not leaving you behind!” said Ron. Harry saw Hermione opening her mouth to add her own protest but he beat her to it.

“You know as well as I do that she is in much more danger than any of us!” said Harry, urgently.

“And you aren’t?” Hermione glared at him. But Harry ignored her and gave Ron a pleading look, he didn’t want to endanger his friends because of his own carelessness.

Ron’s head was moving back and forth between him and Mione’, trying to decide what to do, before he finally sighed dejectedly and grabbed Hermione’s arm pulling her towards the forest.

“Ron! Let go!” She tried to wriggle out of his hold, but gave both of them a murderous glare when none of the boys backed down. “Harry James Potter! I’ll kill you and feed you to Buckbeak when I get my hands on you!” She warned as she was led away by Ron who was enduring her fist’s constant attack.

“Get back soon mate!” he heard Ron shout as their figures became blurred in the shadows of the trees.

Harry turned around just in time to see people ducking out of the way of a strong _reductor_ and his eyes widened in alarm. Time slowed down as if Harry was looking at a clipping in slow motion. He saw a little girl, just a mere feet away from the tent which was milliseconds away from being hit by the curse, and instinctively raised his hand to cast a shield even if he knew he would be late.

His heart skipped a beat, as cold dread settled in his veins at the thought of witnessing an innocent child die in front of his eyes, all of a sudden the sounds around him became mute as he heard the sound of his own blood ringing through his ears and the thudding of his own heart beating wildly against his ribcage. He didn’t realize that he was already running towards the girl.

But just as the curse was about to hit the tent, he saw a strong shield covering her, before he heard a loud bang and his steps faltered as he tried to cover his face from the splinters that were flying in the air due to the blast.

He reached the girl and kneeled down next to her. She was lying on the ground, curled up in a small ball, eyes tightly shut, and he could hear whimpering and sniffling sounds coming from her.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, trying not to scare her. When he didn’t get any response, he gingerly touched her shoulder to get her attention and immediately regretted it as she flinched away and looked at him with wide terrified hazel eyes.

“Hey…it’s okay. It’s okay…I won’t hurt you…I promise,” he said, as softly as he can. “See,” he raised both his hands to show that he didn’t mean any harm and slowly lowered them when she relaxed. He felt like he was dealing with an injured fawn, who would run away at the faintest of sounds.

He slowly offered his hand, and helped her to her feet when she took it, after eyeing it for several seconds. She was still looking at him, wide eyed, but she didn’t seem scared anymore, as if she could sense that he wanted to help her. Harry noticed that she was unusually quiet for a child of her age in the given circumstances.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here and find your parents.” He moved to pick her up in his arms when he noticed that her eyes have gone wide in terror, it was as if his words have triggered some kind of alarm in her head. She was feverishly looking around herself with frightened eyes.

“Dwaco,” she whispered, before shouting, “DWACO! DWACO…DWACO!”

Harry’s heart clenched when he realized that the girl is looking for her family. Her terrified cries were making his chest feel tight. He desperately tried to get her attention, to calm her down, to reassure her that everything would be okay and that he would find her family, but it was all In vain, the little girl was on the verge of hysteria and he couldn’t do anything.

“Dwaco,” her voice was trembling and tears were streaming down her chubby cheeks. Harry had a sickening thought that whosoever was with the girl has gotten hurt or…or…killed…merlin killed, in the blast. After all, the girl was near the tent, and someone had shielded her just in time. The realization had his stomach churning with dread.

But he _needs_ to get them out of here, the death eaters were coming closer, but the girl won’t move, and Harry can’t really blame her, even he would have been frantic if he had lost Sirius like this and she was just a small little girl, so he rabidly started scanning the area close to the tent for any sign of life.

“DWACO!” the girl cried out before running towards the back of the tent, Harry at her heels, trying to shield her from any stray spells that were flying their way. As they got closer, Harry noticed a figure of a boy, about his age, with a striking mop of blond hair, lying on the ground, unconscious, and his mind instantly thought of the worst scenario.

“Dwaco,” the girl said as she kneeled down next to the elder boy and started shaking his shoulders. The boy moaned in pain but didn’t open his eyes. “Dwaco…wake up Dwaco, pwease,” she hiccupped, then looked at Harry with big pleading eyes.

The wretched look he saw in her eyes got him into action, no child should have such a look on their face! He immediately kneeled beside her and searched for the boy’s pulse, all the while praying “please be okay, please be okay,” under his breath. He sighed in relief when he felt the boy’s pulse, they were still strong, which was a good thing as far as Harry knew.

“Stand back,” said Harry and the girl immediately edged backward and allowed Harry to move closer to the boy.

Harry took a deep breath, he has never tried this before on someone, but hopefully it should work. He laid his palm on the boy’s chest and whispered, “Evenerate.” Nothing happened. He tried again, this time by putting more power behind the spell and finally, finally the boy coughed before his eyes fluttered open.

Draco jerked awake to the feeling of throbbing pain in his entire body, especially in his left shoulder. His head was pounding and his eyes felt heavy. He tried to scream because the pain was killing him, but he ended up coughing, his raw throat aching and itching with every cough. He felt sore and his left arm and foot were screaming in agony. He hated pain, hated how miserable he got when he felt pain, hated how bad he was at handling pain no matter how strong and resilient he tried to be, hated how it always made him useless and made it difficult to think.

He finally managed to lift his eyelids open with a lot of effort and looked straight into the most brilliant emerald eyes he has ever seen. They were like bright green polished jade stones, in its purest form, they were like big shiny crystals, lighter around the irises and then going darker and darker until they formed a thin black ring at the end of the pupils. The long dark eyelashes around those big eyes made them look almost unearthly beautiful.

But there was something wrong with those eyes, they didn’t look happy. They looked sad and worried. Draco didn’t like the sad emotion that was being displayed in those eyes. Something so beautiful shouldn’t look so sad. And why were they worried?

Just as the question crossed his mind, everything that had happened before he fell unconscious came rushing back to him with full force, and he panicked.

Fallen unconscious. After the blast. The blast that occurred during the riots when he was running away with Lyra. Lyra! He realized with a jolt that he had seen a black clad figure looming over her, and his blood ran cold at the thought of what must have happened to her. He couldn’t protect her! He didn’t know where she was! He lost her, his precious little girl.

But before he could get completely hysterical, he felt a small body lunging itself at him. He closed his eyes in relief as he was surrounded by the familiar flowery scent of Lyra’s baby shampoo. He instantly wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, not caring about his aching shoulder.

Harry watched as various emotions ran across the boy’s face; from confusion to realization to full blown panic before the girl lunged herself at him.

“Dwaco!” she sobbed, her voice broken, as she buried her face into the boy’s chest, as if hiding from the whole world. The boy instantly sat up, without even realizing it, and wrapped his arms protectively around the girl and nuzzled his face into her hair at the top of her head. Harry watched as the tension left the boys shoulder and he relaxed.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into the girl’s hair as he rocked her back and forth while she curled herself into his lap, sniffling and hiccupping between her cries. “I am here…Draco’s here…you are safe…shh…you are safe, Lyra, I promise…I promise, please don’t cry…I’m sorry…I won’t let you go again, I promise…” and the boy—Draco, Harry registered—went on and on with his incoherent apologies and promises.

Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. The utter devastation, regret and pain in Draco’s voice had his stomach twisting into knots, and he felt a huge rush of emotions which were too complicated for him to even decipher. But he didn’t get enough time to ponder over it, as he saw more stray spells coming their way. He impulsive let his magic go out through his body and surround all three of them in a strong shield, giving him enough time to think of a way to get them out of this disaster. 

Draco was so distracted that he didn’t even notice the stray spells that were flying around them, his relief was so great that he let his guard down as he forgot where he was for a moment. He froze when he felt the air around him change, a surge of pure raw magic surrounding them, so powerful, yet so warm and safe that it was almost intoxicating. He looked around and found that they were surrounded by a shimmering golden globe. He frowned, he has never heard of a golden shield before. He gasped when he realized what he was seeing. It wasn’t the color of the shield that was golden, it was the color of a magical aura. A _very_ ancient and powerful magical aura. He has never really heard of anyone having a golden aura. It was the rarest color, the only aura as rare as that, was silver. He looked at it in awe, enchanted by its beauty, the purity of the aura was so immense that Draco felt nauseated.

He knew he could see a person’s magical aura because of his veela heritage. Every magical being had a different magical aura, it was the color of a being’s magic, like people have different eye color or skin color. Only the difference was, magical aura’s can depict one’s magical strength or nature and could tell a lot about ones personality. Auras with colors like blood red, black, dark violet showed that the being was driven by negative emotions like evil, anger, greed or jealousy. Colors like cream, pale yellow, brown showed weak magical strength. Colors like light blue or light green showed calmness, beings with such auras were mostly good at things like healing or herbology or in handling creatures. The list went on and on.  Everyone had different shades of these colors, depending on their magical strengths and nature, but pure magical auras like gold and silver were hardly ever seen. It was one in a million. Even if someone had them, it was mostly faint, not as strong and intense as the one Draco was seeing. It was breathtaking and Draco felt intimidated by its potency.

And that was the thing. Auras weren’t something inherited, they were dynamic. It depended on the being, which color his or her aura will take. It depended on the purity of one’s heart or the actions for which one’s magic is used for; it depended on the emotions and intentions with which a person’s magic is driven. That’s why pure auras were rare, because humans are selfish and corrupt, they use magic for gain or evil, hardly without any ulterior motive. The only magical beings known to have bright pure auras were unicorns, who have silver, and phoenixes who have golden.

The most unusual thing was, Draco knew he _could_ see magical auras. But he _cannot_ see it, not now, his visual powers haven’t developed enough to recognize magical auras, he would be able to do it once he gets his inheritance and his powers have reached maturity. Which only meant two things: that he has suddenly gotten his inheritance at the age of fourteen, which was impossible as it can only be delayed, not the other way around; or, the intensity and power of the person’s magic is making his or her aura prominent enough to be visible to his underdeveloped senses. The realization made his head swoon, it meant that the color will be brighter if seen with properly developed senses.

Draco was so far gone in his power drunken haze that he didn’t realize that someone was calling out his name until a hand touched his shoulder and pain shot through his entire left side.

Everything came crashing down on him with such force that it knocked the air out of his lunges. As if a switch has been flicked and his other senses, which had gone mute in the last few minutes, suddenly came alive. All the shouts and screams and the smell of fire, smoke and dust, along with the sharp pain of his injuries was making him dizzy.

He turned his head towards the source of the voice and saw a boy bending over him. He was dressed in black from head to toe, and Draco realized with a start that it was this boy he had seen before he had passed out, and not some Death eater. He looked up at the boy’s face and met those startling green eyes, the same eyes that he had seen when he had woken up.

The boy had an anxious and worried expression on his face as he spoke to Draco urgently, waving his hands wildly in front of Draco’s face, but Draco couldn’t make out what he was saying and he simply blinked at him dumbly.

He heard a loud bang as the shield around them finally broke under the pressure. This snapped Draco out of his haze and brought him back to reality. He shook his head to clear his mind off the fog that had clogged his brain and finally asked, “What?”

“Will you be able to run?” the brunet asked.

“I…I don’t--” but he was cut off by the familiar uneasy feeling of being squeezed through a small pipe as they disapparated.

*

Harry’s body hit the ground hard as he landed on his back, Lyra on top of him, cushioning her fall. He gave her enough time to get off him before sitting up and quickly scanning her to make sure she is in one piece. He turned around to check on Draco and found him trying and failing to sit up.

“You alright?” he asked, worried, as he gently wrapped his arm around Draco’s back to help him sit up.  

“Yeah,” Draco croaked out, as he messaged his temple with his fingers. “What happened?”

“I don’t know…I just…I tried to cast a wandless shield and lost control of my magic and…Did I hurt you?” Harry asked, biting his lip.

“Yeah…I mean, no…you didn’t hurt me,” Draco added when he noticed the green eyes going wide in alarm.

Harry’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Wait!” Draco exclaimed, “ _You_ cast that shield? Wandlessly?”

“Uh…yeah” said Harry, not seeing the point.

“Oh!” was all Draco managed to say as he looked down at his lap, thinking hard. He didn’t know what to think about being alone with someone who was so powerful, especially when he was injured and vulnerable. But for some odd reason, the boy didn’t frighten him, instead he made him feel safe. And the boy had only helped him and protected him and he looked genuinely concerned, which made Draco’s heart flutter.

 Draco would have asked how the boy had managed to break through the anti-apparition wards that were around the camp site, but after what he had witnessed, it wasn’t really surprising.  

“Um… you sure, you’re okay?” Harry asked, anxiously.

“Yeah, just…Magical high…don’t worry,” said Draco, trying to look as unfazed as possible, it wouldn’t do to show weakness in a situation like this. When he saw the confused expression on the boy’s face, he explained, “It’s like…getting drunk…just on magic, instead of alcohol. Your body and mind gets overwhelmed when surrounded by so much energy…and yes, before you ask, I’m fine.”

Harry closed his mouth, which he had opened to ask exactly that, and blushed, mortified.

Draco looked at the boy, amused, and grinned when he noticed the blush on the boy’s cheeks. He found it rather cute. He shook his head, this wasn’t the time to develop a crush on a stranger, and he has to protect Lyra until his mother sends a portkey for them with a house elf or father comes to get them. Lyra! He looked around, frantically, when he realized he had almost forgotten about her, until his eyes landed on her small frame.

She was sitting under one of the many trees and examining a flower curiously, all calm and carefree, as if in the gardens of the Malfoy Manor and not some unknown forest.

“Lyra,” he called and she looked up from the flower she was holding, “come here, please.”

She instantly got up from where she was sitting and edged towards Draco, flower still in her hand, as she stood next to him. Draco took her small hand in his and peered into her dark hazel eyes.

“Lyra, are you hurt?” Draco asked, he knew Lyra always needed prompting when it comes to expressing herself, it had taken Draco months to finally understand how to handle her after they had found her, three years ago. She didn’t reply at ones, just as Draco had expected. “Sweetheart, tell me, are you hurt somewhere, anywhere?” Draco held her chin lightly so that she could look at the sincerity and urgency in his eyes. She slowly nodded her head, making her curls fall into her eyes which Draco brushed back behind her ear. “Where?” he asked, relieved that she won’t keep it to herself anymore.

She gingerly slid aside her cloak to reveal a scraped knee. Draco was glad and worried at the same time; glad that the wound wasn’t anything serious and worried because he sucked miserably at healing spells. He slowly lifted his good arm to examine the wound, he can always look for some herbs as he had enough knowledge about potions and herbology, but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Let me?” said Harry, who had been quietly watching the exchange till now, he had never seen someone so affectionate and caring—except Sirius—and the girl seemed just as attached to her…brother—Harry assumed. “I don’t think you should strain yourself.”

Draco glared at the boy for implying that he was weak—although its effect was dampened by the pain that was etched across his face—which was true, at least in the given circumstances. Pain made him utterly incapable of thinking properly anyway. He hesitated, not sure about letting a stranger close to Lyra.

“I’m good at healing spells, if that’s what you are thinking,” the boy reassured, clearly catching on Draco’s hesitation. Finally Draco tilted his head, giving him a silent permission to go ahead. It’s not that Lyra had reacted badly to the guy earlier, which was a good sign.

Draco watched, from where he was still sitting on the ground, as the boy stood up and carelessly brushed the leaves and scraps that were sticking to his clothes before picking up Lyra, careful to avoid touching her wounded knee, and settled her on a large flat stone, before crouching down on one knee in front of her so that they were at eye level.

“Hey, Lyra,” the boy greeted with a soft smile, “Do you know what your name means?”

Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise when he realized that the boy was trying to distract her, not many people knew how to handle her.

Lyra nodded, “Sta’s.”

“Oh! You are a smart girl, aren’t you?” the boy displayed mock surprise and Lyra giggled. “So…is Lyra your favorite constellation?”

She shook her head, smiling.

“No? Then which one is your favorite?”

“Dwaco,” she said, her smile getting wider.

“Why?” he asked, looking genuinely curious this time.

“Dwaco says, he watches me fwom school when he is in Fwance,” she answered.

“Does he, now?” he asked as he looked at Draco, eyebrows cocked up in amusement, and Draco blushed furiously and covered his face with his hands to hide it. He groaned in embarrassment when he heard the boy chuckle. Honestly! Next time he will make sure to warn Lyra about not going around saying such things, the little devil. 

Lyra nodded brightly, “Yeap. He says…he will pwotect me, just like ‘Dwaco the Dwagon’ pwotected Queen Hera’s magical twee…with golden apples,” she said, as seriously as a little girl can manage, as if sharing the most sacred piece of information, arms raised to make large gestures.

The boy was still looking at Draco, his lips pursed, obviously trying to suppress his laughter.

 _Wonderful!_   Thought Draco, _just what I needed, more embarrassment._

“That’s great Lyra. Can you show me where’s Draco in the sky?”

She nodded, glowing under the praise, and looked up to find the constellation.

Draco noticed the boy slowly raising his right hand towards her knee and healing the wound as Lyra was busy finding the constellation in the sky.

“There!” she said, pointing at the constellation just as the boy finished, leaving the skin as good as new.

“Wow! You have your own stars to protect you, isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeap. Do you have a sta’ to pwotect you too?” she asked, looking at the boy with wide, curious eyes.

 Draco noticed something shift in the boy’s expression, and it intrigued him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, smiling wistfully, “I have the _brightest_ star protecting me.”

“Really?”

The boy nodded, smiling warmly at her awed expression.

“Is it a Dwagon too?” she asked.

The boy shook his head, his smile turning bright again. “No. It’s a dog.”

“Oh!” she said, now looking unimpressed, “My Dwagon is biggah,” she said pompously and the boy burst out laughing.

Draco couldn’t help but smile. The boy’s laugh was beautiful and infectious, he had to admit. It was so open and free, like the soft ringing of bells and the roaring of ocean waves as they met the morning beech. It made everything feel so lively.

“Oh, I’m sure,” said the boy between his laughter, making Lyra giggle. They stayed like that for a few minutes as Draco silently watched the scene, listening to their tinkling laughter.

“Is it your bwother?” Lyra asked, yawning. “your sta’…is it your bwother too?” her eyes were dropping now.

The boy abruptly stopped laughing, and remained quiet for a long time, and Draco waited to see what he would say, even he was a bit curious, whosoever this person was seemed really important to the boy.

When Lyra yawned again, the boy lifted the hood of her cloak and covered her head. “No,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, as he lifted her up and waved his hand on the ground, casting a cushioning charm. He gently laid her on the cushioned ground and adjusted her cloak to make sure she was properly covered before casting a mild warming charm.

Draco was _really_ impressed by the guy’s effortless use of wandless magic.

Lyra was still looking at him, on the verge of falling asleep, waiting for him to answer.

“It’s my dad,” he replied softly, before pulling the flower out of her small palm as her grip loosened and she fell asleep.

They were quiet for a long time. Only the sound of their breathing and Lyra’s soft snores filling the void.

“You are quite good at it…healing I mean,” said Draco, who was getting unnerved by the heavy silence.

“Practice,” the guy replied, distractedly, as he kept looking at the flower with which he was playing, turning it between his fingers, a thoughtful expression on his face. Suddenly he stopped and looked at Lyra. “She is…” he trailed off, frowning.

“Different?” Draco chuckled. “I know.”

“Yeah. When she looked at me…it was just…I felt like I was…”

“Bare…vulnerable…exposed?” offered Draco.

The boy looked at him then and nodded, “Yeah…as if she can…I don’t know…read my mind or something” said the boy, still frowning.

“That’s because she _can,”_ said Draco, matter-of-factly. He smirked at the boy’s dumbstruck expression, before continuing, “She is a natural Empath. She can sense your emotions and can determine your intentions. That was one of the reasons why I let you near her; because she didn’t react negatively to you. If you had intended to harm her, she would have sensed it.”

“But…isn’t there something to protect one’s mind?”

“There is, but occlumency can only protect your mind and thoughts, not your emotions. A good legilimense can determine your emotions by looking through your thoughts, but it’s only a guess, they can’t actually _sense_ your emotions like Lyra can,” said Draco, with just a hint of warning in his tone. He thought it would prevent the guy from even thinking about harming them, not that it looked like a possibility though.

If Draco has to be honest with himself, the situation would have been much worse if the boy hadn’t been there. What if a death eater had really gotten hold of Lyra, or some stray spell had hit her? And with Draco’s condition, he wouldn’t have been able to get them out of there on time, hell, he would have been lying there all night, unconscious, while Lyra was alone and defenseless. Draco’s horrendous train of thoughts was interrupted when the boy spoke.

“But, Isn’t she too young for certain emotions though? I mean, she is just, what, four, or five maybe, how can she understand complicated emotions which only adults can feel?”

 “She can’t,” Draco sighed, “But she can still sense them, even if she cannot give them a name. And, she can still distinguish between negative and positive emotions. So, even if she cannot understand emotions like jealousy and hatred, she’ll know that they’re negative when she encounters them.”

Harry snorted. “Well, that would surely make things easier.”

He looked at Draco, who shrugged, then winced, as a pained expression took over his face. Harry was immediately at his side, “Are you okay?” he asked, maybe for the hundredth time, but for some unknown reason, he was really worried for the blond and he just can’t help it.

“Y-yes,” said Draco, through clenched teeth, which didn’t ease Harry’s apprehension one bit. He realized that Draco hasn’t moved from his place at all, which worried him even more.

He anxiously looked around himself, as if expecting an answer to just pop out of thin air. They were in a small clearing in a forest, Harry wasn’t sure where, but he wasn’t worried about that, he has become quite used to forests by now, and he was far more comfortable with them, as he was getting closer to attaining his animagus form. And he can always light up a fire to keep the creatures away.

Lyra was peacefully sleeping under a tree, just a couple of feet away from them, and moonlight was illuminating the area as it fell into the clearing through the porous canopy. Yes, he would have to light a fire soon, both for warmth and vision, it would be safer that way.

But first he has to ensure that Draco is fine. He quickly waived his hand to cast a strong cushioning charm under the tree next to Lyra’s and looked back at Draco.

Draco was biting down hard on his lower lip, eyes tightly shut, and looked paler than when Harry had found him earlier.

 _This isn’t good_ , thought Harry, _this isn’t good at all_. He quickly checked Draco’s pulse and his anxiety spiked up when he noticed that it was weaker than earlier, and the fact that Draco didn’t even seem to realize that Harry had touched him didn’t help either.

“Draco,” said Harry, his voice filled with concern.

Draco opened his eyes and Harry noticed that they were a bit disoriented.

“Will you be able to stand? We can move there,” he gestured towards the tree, “so that I can check you for injuries.” Harry just hoped Draco didn’t have any internal injuries as it would create a huge--and quite fatal if not treated on time—problems.

Draco merely nodded and took a deep breath before trying to get up. Harry was standing close to him, his arms hovering around the blonde’s body, ready to catch him if he falls, but not touching, yet.

Harry noticed the way Draco’s hands trembled, the way his body swayed when he finally managed to get up but caught himself in time to avoid falling face first on the ground.

Harry was holding his breath, his senses on high alert, every twitch of Draco’s body making him edgy, thinking that something would go wrong.

Draco just stood there for a while, trying to control his labored breathing, now that the adrenalin rush has slowed down and he didn’t have to worry about Lyra, which had kept him distracted until now, the burning sting of his shoulder and ankle has come back full force, making him nauseated; moving his limbs only adding to the throbbing pain.  

He slowly lifted his left foot, which was trembling, to step towards the tree, but just as it touched the ground, he cried out in pain. Then tripped, as he lost his balance.

Harry immediately caught the trembling figure in his arms, and felt Draco gripping the hem of the collar of his overcoat tightly for support. His arms were wrapped around the blonde’s back, as slight tremors of pain wracked through his body. He felt Draco burying his face into his chest and unconsciously tightened his hold on the paler boy.

The soothing smell of freshly brewed coffee, mixed with the sweet smell of melting chocolate assaulted Harry’s senses, making him close his eyes and just breathe into the calming scent. His breath hitched as he felt Draco’s soft hair tickling his sensitive neck, and he realized that they were a very beautiful shade of ice blond, almost silver, instead of the normal pale yellow, and smelled of rich coconut and herbs.

His eyes traced the side of Draco’s tender neck, marveling at its smooth creamy texture. Draco was like a richly flavored dessert, and Harry just wanted to touch it and taste it and bite it and then _shoot his own fucking brains out for having such crazy thoughts at a time like this!_

That’s when he felt it, the fabric under his fingers was wet and soaked. He frowned, looked down, and gasped, because his fingers were red, red and coated with blood, Draco’s blood. Draco was bleeding from his left shoulder, just where his shirt was torn. The tear was small, almost negligible, making it difficult to notice until one looked closer, but that was worse, because the amount of blood Draco seemed to have lost meant that the wound was deeper than it looked, probably even damaging a vein or two.

Harry cursed himself for not taking a closer look at Draco earlier, he would have missed it completely if he hadn’t touched him, as his black satin shirt was covering the fierce red color of blood, making it impossible to notice under the dim moonlight.

He raised his right hand, his left still holding Draco, and gently, very gently, touched the area around the wound. Draco whimpered, voice muffled, as his face was still buried into Harry’s chest. And its vibration traveled through the Gryffindor’s entire body, tugging at his heart due to the sheer pain he could hear in that soft sound, and he lost it.

 _Fuck it!_ He thought, as he picked Draco up in one swift motion, bridal style, his left hand under Draco’s lower thigs and right hand cradling his upper body. Propriety can go fuck itself, because Draco was hurting, and Harry just _can’t_ take it anymore.

Draco squeaked when he suddenly felt his feet leave the ground and instinctively wrapped his arms around the brunet’s neck, burying his face deeper into his chest, before his mind could even register what he was doing.

He would have protested, but in all honesty, he was just glad that the pressure has been lifted from his ankle. He felt so drained, as if everything has been sucked out of his body, maybe it has. His body felt like lead, and he felt lightheaded. And he didn’t feel like moving any time soon.

He just wanted to close his eyes and breathe into the cool, refreshing scent of lemon, oranges and first rain, which was coming from the boy who was holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world. So he did just that. He let his head fall limply on the boy’s shoulder and closed his eyes, sighing contentedly, letting his calming fragrance sooth his flaming nerves, as he listened to the constant beating of the brunet’s heart.

He’ll think about his pride later, he’ll think about his racing heart later, he’ll think about the butterflies that were fluttering in his stomach later, because right now, right now he felt safe, and cared for, and that’s what he wanted.

He felt himself being placed on the soft cushioned ground and whined at the loss of his warm comfort-zone. He immediately fell back against the tree trunk and hissed when its hard surface dug into his sore skin, before it turned feathery soft. Cushioning charm, he realized, feeling comfortable enough to finally open his eyes.

“Better?” asked the boy, his green eyes ablaze and filled with worry.

Draco nodded, “Thanks…”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“My name, its Harry,” said the boy— _Harry_.

He ran his hands through his hair, revealing a few streaks of midnight blue highlights and a snake ear cuff—which Draco found wickedly sexy—and the edges of a scar on his forehead. But before Draco could have a better look at it, Harry kneeled in front of him and ducked his head, making his fringes cover his forehead.

“You have a handkerchief?” he asked, examining his foot with narrowed eyes. He gently cradled Draco’s foot in his hands. “Seems broken.” He lightly pressed his thumb at Draco’s ankle bone, and immediately pulled back when Draco yelped.

“Ah…yeah…check my…check my pockets.” Harry moved forward to check his pockets and a shiver went down Draco’s spine as his hands brushed Draco’s waist trough the fabric of his shirt. They were so close, and Draco’s heart-beat quickened as Harry’s warm breath tickled his neck, just under his ear, and he closed his eyes.

Ones Harry found the handkerchief, he turned around and scanned the area for Draco’s wand, it wasn’t like he can’t heal him without a wand but he was getting tired of the whole ordeal now, Sirius was right, accidently letting out more than required magical force has drained him and then breaking through the anti-apparition wards has added to his exhaustion.

And he didn’t want to take any chances with Draco.

He found it lying in the middle of the clearing, a few feet away from where they had landed after they had apparated into the clearing. He picked it up, and instantly felt the tingling hum of magic. Draco’s wand was like the exact opposite of his. It was all smooth edges and sleek, elegant hawthorn wood, while Harry’s wand was all rough and raw. Where Harry’s wand seemed wildly powerful, this one spoke of precision and perfect control. While his wand felt warm in his hands and pulsed with magic, like fire that can burn you, this one felt cool, as magic flowed through it in calm waves, which can drown you if angered.

But as odd as it may sound, the wand didn’t seem to oppose him at all, as if it was welcoming him, embracing his magic, like it didn’t mind being used by him, like it was happy to be in his hands.

He waived the wand a few times, casting basic spells, and was surprised to see how well it worked for him. It didn’t feel like his wand, but it still felt good.

“Mind if I use it?” he asked, he knew people don’t like letting others touch their wands, he himself didn’t like it.

Draco opened his eyes to see Harry holding his wand. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t like the idea of being so defenseless and vulnerable, while someone else was holding his wand. 

“I lost mine,” said Harry, as a way of explanation, “And I don’t think it’s wise to continue without it…I can lose control and…” _I don’t want to hurt you by taking any risks_ , was left unsaid.

Off course he lost his wand, thought Draco, he hasn’t seen Harry using it at all. And Draco knew performing wandless required a lot of control and effort, especially if the wizard is so powerful, as control becomes more difficult.

And Harry is right, it wasn’t wise to continue without a wand as Draco could see how tired Harry looked, and he felt guilty for being such a burden.

Harry had been there for them even if he didn’t have to, he could have left them behind to get himself to safety. He was completely fine, and would have managed to stay out of this mess, but he didn’t do it. Instead he stayed and rescued and helped and cared, and Draco just didn’t know what to do with this beautiful selfless man that was standing in front of him. So he simply nodded, giving Harry a silent permission, as he couldn’t trust his voice, seeing that his throat has gone dry and his chest felt tight with shame and guilt. He knew he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to help a stranger, and Harry was doing just that, without expecting anything in return, without any regrets that he could have been warm and cozy and safe at home, instead of looking after a stranger in the middle of a forest.

And suddenly Draco understood why Harry’s aura is so pure. The evidence was in front of his eyes. The way Harry, despite being so powerful and strong, would kneel down in front of a five year old and talk about stars, and smile, all warm and friendly. The way Harry helped them without a second thought, and went all the way with it, instead of just doing the bare minimum. The way he made sure to distract Lyra, laugh with her, with so much innocence in those intense green eyes. The way he made sure that both of them were comfortable. The way he let his pride down, admit that he could lose control, and so cautiously asked if he could use Draco’s wand or not, so that he didn’t hurt Draco.

Draco’s breath caught in his throat when Harry kneeled in front of him and carefully started removing his shoes and socks, trying not to disturb his broken bone. When he was done, he gently caressed his ankle, drawing soothing circles on it with feather-light touches, before looking up to meet his eyes.

“This won’t be pleasant,” Harry warned, as he pointed the wand at Draco’s ankle, “Ready?”

 Draco gulped audibly before nodding his head. “Yeah,” he said, his voice shaky.

He looked down at his foot, then back at Harry, biting his lip. He was a bit scared at the prospect of more pain but he wasn’t childish enough to voice it.

Harry raised his free hand and slowly caressed Draco’s cheek, stroking his cheek-bone with his thumb. Draco tensed at the foreign touch, before relaxing, he leaned into the touch and sighed, suddenly feeling a little braver.

Harry gave him a small smile, still stroking his cheek. “It’ll be alright…just focus on me, okay?”

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, before opening them to meet those dazzling green eyes, “Okay,” he said, in a small voice.

Harry gave him one last reassuring smile, and Draco could feel the tip of his wand touching his ankle before—

“Episkey.”

He shouted; sharp pain shot through his entire left side as his bones mended with a sickening crack, making him scream in agony, before it disappeared, just as quickly, leaving behind only a tingling sensation.

He relaxed, thinking that the torture is finally over, only to scream again. He felt something pierce through his skin, like needles, just around the edges of his torn shoulder, and he just couldn’t take it. He felt his eyes water, as beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead and temples, he was breathing hard, his breath coming in short pants, as black spots formed at the corner of his eyes, making his vision blurry. His mind was in a haze and he knew he was losing consciousness again.

“Draco…Just hold on a bit longer…yeah? It’s almost done,” he heard Harry’s voice and felt his hands on his cheeks, gently slapping to keep him focused.

Draco tried to keep his eyes open, to focus, to clear the fog, but he wasn’t able to. He tried to shout, to scream, but it only came out as a choked sob, as his throat has gone dry and scratchy, and his lungs were on fire, strained and aching from all the screaming.

“I’m sorry, Draco…just a little more…please…we are almost there…you are doing great…shh…it’s almost done,” he felt Harry’s fingertips brushing his hair from his forehead as he tried to comfort him, but it didn’t end, those painful minutes felt like hours.

Draco curled his fingers tightly into Harry’s coat, his nails digging hard into his skin, as he tried to endure through the pure agony. By now, he was breathless, and soaked in his own blood and sweat, as he sobbed into Harry’s shoulder.

He didn’t know how, or when, he had gotten himself here, in Harry’s arms, as the boy stroked his hair and rubbed soothing circles on his back, all the while rocking him back and forth and murmuring comforting things to him. But he didn’t care. The pain in his shoulder was getting fainter now, and he felt drained and knackered. And he was far too comfortable to move, and Harry didn’t seem to mind.

So Draco buried his face into the cave of Harry’s neck, and sighed contentedly, as the tension left his body. Before finally falling into oblivion, surrounded by Harry’s fresh minty smell.

*

Harry stayed like that for several minutes, simply holding Draco, until his breathing evened out and he sagged into Harry’s arms. Then he quickly reinforced the cushioning charms and gently laid the precious bundle on the soft ground, before getting back to finishing his task.

He ripped the handkerchief he had borrowed from Draco into two, before enlarging the pieces and transfiguring them into bandages. He cast a strong warming charm on one of the bandages before wrapping it properly around Draco’s ankle. Mostly a muscle relaxant potion is given after healing fractures, but a warm bandage will do the job, for now. (He has never been more grateful for those muggle first aid lessons and all the studying he had done this summer.)

He took the second bandage, and sighed heavily. Healing Draco’s shoulder had been difficult, because it needed stiches, and even if Harry knew the spells for disinfecting and stitching the wound, he didn’t know how to numb the area, and it had wretched his heart to continue healing Draco without proper sedation, knowing that it would be pure torture, but he didn’t have a choice, the blood loss was already making Draco dizzy, and he ran the risk of infection if he wasn’t treated soon.

Harry shook his head, the first thing he’ll do after getting back to Hogwarts will be to check the library for more efficient and less painful healing spells.

He shook his head again and went back to what he was doing. He conjured a simple bowl and filled it with cold water before soaking the bandage into it, he then used the wet cloth to tenderly wipe the sweat off Draco’s forehead and any remaining patches of blood off his neck, collar and shoulders—cleaning charms won’t be a wise choice over recently healed skin—before cleaning his shirt with a quick spell.

Ones he was done, he simply sat there for a while, watching Draco sleep. And it was the most peaceful sight he has ever seen. Draco’s face looked so calm, all sharp edges and white creamy skin, as small puffs of air left his baby pink lips and his chest rose and fell with each breath. He was curled up in a ball, his fist resting under his chin, and Harry couldn’t help but think that he looked like a baby.

He tentatively brushed Draco’s hair from his forehead and felt the smoot, silky strands sliding against his fingertips, then removed his overcoat and draped it over Draco’s sleeping form, wrapping it snuggly around him, before casting a strong warming charm on it.

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, the exhaustion and fatigue finally creeping over him, making it difficult to stay alert. But he still needs to set up wards and make a bonfire to keep the creatures and animals away.

He only knew some basic wards, which would alert him if something comes into their vicinity, but it’ll have to do for now. One can only learn this much in two months, and wards are highly complicated piece of magic and won’t be taught until sixth year, and even if he’s a bit ahead in his curriculum, he still has to learn a lot.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, for the first time feeling frustrated for not knowing enough. Is this how Hermione felt all the time? He shook his head, this wasn’t the time to think about Hermione, he had been deliberately avoiding thinking about his friends, because he knew he would go mad with worry and he already had enough on his plate as it is. He still has to think of a way to contact someone, they can’t stay here forever.

He finally got up from where he was sitting next to Draco; checked on Lyra to make sure she was still sleeping soundly in the silencing bubble Harry had casted when Draco had started screaming, before rolling up his sleeves.

All set to work.

The next hour was going to be long and tiring.

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POLLS!!  
> Draco and Harry's heights  
> ohk i am going with the book heights where Harry became as tall as james which was close to 6 feet and both harry and Draco were almost equal in height. but i dont know which one should be the taller one. god i want to show Harry all protective and stuff and i wanted Draco just a bit smaller. but i am really confused. 
> 
> who should be the Taller one?  
> 1)HArry  
> 2)Draco
> 
> I am really confused. help. i like a short Harry but then I also like it when Harry is just tall enough to lovingly tuck Draco under his chin.  
> Helppppp


	4. The Night Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of angsty wolfstar.  
> Enjoy!  
> And drarry off course.

“What is it ?”

Sirius shifted his gaze from where he had been staring out of the window to look at Remus when he heard his voice. Remus was looking at him worriedly, his narrowed eyes searching his face as he noticed that Sirius still hadn’t eaten anything and had only been picking at his food. They were in the gloomy dining room of no. 12 Grimmauld place, eating takeaways.At least, Remus was eating. Sirius was too busy pondering over his tangled thoughts.

Sirius didn't want to live in his ancestral home but it was the most warded and protected place for him as the ministry was still on the look out, this house had too many bad memories, but atleast now that Remus had agreed to move in, it won't be that bad. They had shifted this evening, well Remus has shifted, since Sirius hardly has any important things left and most of his ancestral possessions were in this house anyway. They had spend the entire evening putting up more wards and doing some cleaning up, although they have only managed to clean up Sirius's old room and the Kitchen, which was fine for now. Remus has put the house under the Fidelius charm making Sirius the secret keeper, so this house was as protected as it can get. The house was still a mess though and Kreacher wasn't helping. And now even Harry has left, and not only was Sirius missing his pup, he was really confused about what Harry has said before eariler. 

Remus sighed when he didn’t get any reply.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out and he closed it again. He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, not sure how to phrase his thoughts, “just thinking about Harry.”

Remus chuckled as he went back to eating. “Not even a full day has passed and you’re already missing him. Sometimes I wonder who is the child among you two,” he said with fond exasperation, completely unaware of Sirius’ dilemma.

“He called me ‘dad’ today,” Sirius blurted out and Remus almost dropped his spoon in shock.

“And what did you say?” Remus asked slowly.

“What was I supposed to say, Moony?” Sirius said, looking irritated, clearly this topic has been eating him for hours. “I called him son, off course.”

Remus put his spoon down and pushed his plate aside, finally giving Sirius his full attention. “And what’s bothering you?” he asked calmly, entwining his fingers on the table.

He knew it was one of those critical issues where he had to tread carefully. War, James and Lily, Peter, and Harry’s guardianship were some of those topics which they avoided as much as possible, because they had the potential to turn ugly. Its not like they don’t love Harry or don’t want to look after him. In fact, they wanted to do everything they can for their little pup. It was just that, none of them were sure how much of it would be actually appreciated. They both felt guilty for not being there for Harry all these years and have missed on a lot of things, making them hesitant when it came to taking decisions for the teen.

And Sirius still blamed himself for everything that happened 13 years ago and felt like he didn’t deserve Harry’s love and was scared that someday he’ll cross the line or do something horribly wrong which would snatch everything away from him again.

Sirius still hadn’t answered, so Remus took his hand in his and stroked his knuckles, trying to calm him down and show his support. He smiled when Sirius immediately relaxed a little under his touch.

“What’s wrong pads?” he asked again.

“I don’t know, moony,” he said miserably, looking lost. “Its not like I am offended by Harry calling me dad, because he is like my son and It doesn’t really makes a difference to me but...” he trailed off. Sighing, he went back to picking at his food but Remus didn’t let it go.

“But?” he pressed, knowing that if he didn’t force it out of Sirius now then he’d most likely bottle it up inside him and keep berating himself.

Sirius pushed his plate away too, losing his appetite altogether. “But what about James?” he asked weakly, his voice wavering at his lost friend’s name. “What would he say? How would he feel about Harry calling me what he should be calling him?”

“I don’t think James would mind,” said Remus soothingly, as he squeezed Sirius’ hand, but Sirius jerked it away and stood up. Remus was caught off guard by his sudden movement, and was a little hurt.

“How can you be so sure?” Sirius snarled, feeling angry at himself. “How can you be so sure that James wouldn’t mind Harry calling me dad? Me! The reason why he’s dead right now! The reason why lily’s dead and Harry’s an orphan living with that bitch!” he said, his voice rising at the end of the rant.

“Sirius, calm down, we can—” but Sirius was having none of it.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?!” he shouted, bashing his fist against the table. “How can I calm down when all I keep thinking about is how miserable Harry would have been all these years. How lonely. How can I remain calm when all I want to do is strangle Petunia and his whale of a husband for neglecting Harry like that!”

He painfully poked Remus’ chest with his index finger, “Don’t look at me like that, Remus,” he said, his voice getting dangerously low. “I know you noticed it too. We both know what kind of a women Petunia is. And her husband is worse! You’ve to be blind to not notice it. And Harry had to stay there because of me. Because I was stupid enough to trust Peter and then run after him, instead of just taking Harry away with me that night! How can Harry call me dad when I don’t even deserve his forgiveness. Its disrespecting James! Its disrespecting Harry because he deserves better! And its just so...so wrong!”

“Sirius, I can understand—” Remus tried to placate him but Sirius interjected.

“No you cannot understand, Remus,” he said, his voice going hard. “You don’t understand. You didn’t see him. The way his face lights up at the smallest of things. The way he eats as if he hasn’t eaten for days, the way he listens to almost everything we say, the way he hesitates to ask for anything. He doesn’t even ask for anything, damn it! And its so wrong. Harry shouldn’t be like this! And its all my fault.”

“You don’t know how difficult it is to not just murder those bastards. You don’t know how difficult it is to even face him sometimes! And he hasn’t even complained about it. As if he has accepted his life the way it is! And he is hiding it all from us, Remus! He shouldn’t be hiding such things from us! He has stopped trusting adults and I am shocked that he even allowed us to stay in his life after we practically abandoned him!” Sirius was panting now, as if he had run miles. His face was flushed with anger and his eyes were haunted with pain and guilt. He looked ready to explode and curse anything and everything in his sight.

Remus took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, although Sirius’ words were wrenching his heart out because he knew they were true. They didn’t deserve Harry. But he can’t let his own self pity consume him when Sirius needed him. He tried again to reassure him, “Sirius, its not your fault. And I am sure Harry doesn’t blame you, either.”

But Sirius laughed harshly. “Just like you were so sure about me being the spy, isn’t it, Remus?” he taunted. But immediately regretted it when he saw the look of pure hurt on Remus’ face. He has done it now. He has finally gone too far. His anger deflated like a popped balloon. “Remus I—”

Remus raised his hand, “No,” he commanded in a throaty voice, and Sirius immediately shut his mouth.

Remus was trembling with suppressed fury as he clutched the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles white. He took a deep shuddering breath and exhaled shakily. “You think I don’t know how it feels?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Sirius winced. “Remus, listen, I didn’t—”

“No, you listen to me Sirius Orion black!” he said angrily, because he had had enough. “You think I don’t understand? You think I didn’t see how small and thin Harry was when I saw him last year. You think I didn’t blame myself when I saw him begging to McGonagall for a mere permission slip to visit Hogsmede. You think I didn’t want to curse Petunia when I saw him roaming around the castle all alone at night during Christmas when everyone was at home with their families. You think I slept peacefully that night when he said he hears his parents getting murdered when he is near Dementors and, that its the only memories he has of them! You think I didn’t want to kill Peter or myself when I realised that you were innocent! That I was an idiot for ever doubting you. That we lost everything for nothing!” Remus glared, he was breathing hard, his emotions running wild. He rarely lost his temper, but when he did, it just became too difficult to calm down again. He knew that he shouldn’t be shouting at Sirius because Sirius himself was fighting his own mental battle everyday and every night. He knew it wasn’t Sirius fault for acting the way he did. Because Merlin forbid, Sirius deserved to be angry at him, and at the world which had been so unfair to him.

He closed his eyes and tried to will away the angry tears that were threatening to fall and took a shuddering breath, before pushing past Sirius to leave. He can’t stay here, not tonight. Not until he was calm enough to handle Sirius again, because he didn’t want to hurt Sirius anymore than he already has.

He reached the door and stopped, but didn’t turn around because he knew he’d break. The guilt was killing him. With every night that passed with Sirius’ nightmares, Remus blamed himself more and more for ruining his lover’s life and for not trying hard enough to find the truth. He owed Sirius 12 years of his life and all he was doing was hurting him more. Shouting at him and fighting with him.

“You’re right. I don’t understand how it feels,” he whispered, hoarsely. “Because you put your faith in me, and I couldn’t do the same for you when I should have.” He bowed his head in shame but didn’t dare to look at Sirius as he spoke, and he cursed himself for being such a coward. “I failed you,” he said softly, “And I’m sorry.”

There was silence in the room and Remus was about to leave , thinking that there was nothing more to say and Sirius didn’t want to talk to him, when he felt hands wrap around his waist as Sirius hugged him from behind and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Stay,” he murmured quietly. “Please don’t leave me.”

And Remus lost it. Because how could he leave Sirius? He can never do that. Never. Not after already losing him ones. And how can Sirius even want him after everything that has happened? A single tear rolled down his cheek as several emotions overwhelmed him and he couldn’t control them, not anymore.  
  
He immediately turned around and hugged Sirius tightly, burying his face into his robes as he tried to muffle his sobs. “I am sorry,” he choked out, “I am so, so sorry.”

“Shh,” Sirius shushed softly as he tightened his arms around him. “I didn’t mean what I said, love.”

“But its true,” Remus cried. He knew he was being childish. But the truth had been eating him away from inside. And he had been running away from it in the last few months. But he can’t do it anymore. He knew that Sirius’ accusation was true and he didn’t even know how to apologise for it. And here he was, bawling like a baby, when he should be the one keeping it together and helping Sirius. But he can’t do it. Its difficult to keep it together when he had missed his love for a decade and he got him back only to realize that it was his own lack of faith that had pushed his love into hell. “Its true,” he repeated, clutching Sirius tightly, afraid that he’d run away, “you know its true.”

“No, its not.” Sirius said firmly. “Its not your fault. None of this is your fault, love,” he said as he rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“Its not your fault, either,” said Remus, as he pulled away and roughly wiped his eyes with his sleeves, trying to get his bearings under control. He won’t fall apart, not now. He looked at Sirius and held his face in his hands and rested his forehead on his. “Its not your fault, it never was. It was Peter’s fault and it was Voldemort’s fault. And you shouldn’t blame your self for anything they did,” he said resolutely.

Sirius opened his mouth to protest but Remus put a finger on his lips, effectively shushing him. He removed it, stroking his cheek, before cupping his face again. “Promise me, you won’t blame yourself for what happened to lily and James.”

Sirius’ breath caught at the reminder of that horrible night and he remained silent, trying to swallow the huge lump that has formed in his throat.

“Sirius, promise me, please,” Remus pleaded.

Sirius shook his head. “I can’t. Harry...James...lily...I just can’t,” he begged, even taking his friend’s name was no less than a physical pain.

Remus looked into his grey eyes, that were so vulnerable and hurt yet so beautiful and loving and warm. “Harry loves you, Sirius,” he said softly. “James loved you and so did lily. And none of us blamed you for anything, ever. But we need you. Harry needs you. And if you want to make up for the lost times, you have to be strong and stop berating yourself for what happened and do your best to enjoy the second chance that you have snatched for yourself.”

“But I can’t have him calling me dad,” Sirius protested, even if it sounded weak to his own ears, “Its not...appropriate.”

Remus sighed and held Sirius’ hand before dragging him to the nearest chair and pushing him down on it. He kneeled in front of him and peered into those mercury eyes, still holding Sirius’ hand tightly, who was grateful for the comforting pressure.

“Sirius, why did you went along with him calling you dad when you found it inappropriate?” he asked, calmly.

Sirius stared at him, not understanding where this was going, but he answered anyway, “Because I couldn’t just not go along with it.”

“Why?”

“Remus, you know why,” he said irritably, a little uncomfortable with the whole conversation.

“Why, Sirius?” he repeated, knowing that he had to make his idiot lover understand.

Sirius sighed. “Because he would have been hurt if I had refused or argued or, you know....” he trailed off, not able to voice his thoughts.

“Exactly!” Remus exclaimed.

Sirius blinked. “What does this have to do with anything?” he asked, confused. He shook his head and looked at Remus expectantly.

“You see, Sirius. All that matters is how Harry feels about it. And if it makes him happy and it really doesn’t makes a difference to you, then I don’t see why James would ever disapprove of it.” He smirked, “He clearly didn’t mind sharing his parents with you, did he?”

Sirius wacked his arm playfully , before sighing, “I guess, you are right.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow. “I’m always right,” he deadpanned, “And that’s why you should listen to me and stop feeling guilty about what happened that Halloween.”

Sirius shook his head, the playful eyes turning solemn again. “No.”

“Sirius—”

“No, I can’t,” he said stubbornly. “That’s something I have to live with.”

“Please,” Remus pleaded. “You have to forgive yourself for what happened. For our sake, for Harry’s sake.”

A single tear rolled down Sirius’ cheek and Remus wiped it gently with his thumb.

“James wouldn’t have wanted you to remember him like that,” he continued. “He would have wanted you to be happy. He didn’t let Voldemort break him even when his family was a prime target. And he would have expected the same from you. You can’t let Peter and Voldemort ruin you like this.”

Sirius choked on his own tears and Remus stood up. He pulled Sirius close—who instantly buried his face into his chest—and stroked his hair. Although it hurt to watch someone as strong and resilient as Sirius fall apart like this, he was glad that Sirius was finally letting it go. He had been worried when Sirius hadn’t cried or talked to him about anything, as he had a bad habit of putting up a strong facade even if he was dying from the inside and always bottled everything up until he finally exploded.

“I know its not easy to forgive yourself,” Remus whispered softly into Sirius’ hair. “And it seems almost impossible to move on. But when has it ever stopped you from doing anything? You have always done the impossible, love,” he said, admiration lacing his voice. He pulled away and gently tipped Sirius’ chin to meet his eyes. “And you can do it now too. Just promise me you’ll at least try to forgive yourself.”

Sirius closed his eyes and swallowed heavily before nodding his head weakly. He opened his eyes and gave Remus a small tentative smile who smiled in return.

“I’ll try,” said Sirius and Remus’ smile widened, only to fall at his next words. “But only on one condition. You’ll have to promise me the same as well. I won’t have you condemning yourself for what happened to me.”

Remus opened his mouth, but closed it when he realized that protesting will only contradict his own words. He sighed, finding no way out of it. “Oh, alright. I promise,” he said, raising his hands in defeat.

Sirius smirked, clearly catching on Remus’ train of thoughts, although its effect was lost due to his red rimmed eyes. He ducked his head out of the way when Remus flung his arm to smack him playfully, and pulled Remus down on his lap before kissing him straight on the lips.

Remus melted into the kiss as tension left his shoulders and he finally relaxed. The past hour had been a roller coaster of wild emotions for him. He had gone from calm to angry to downright hysterical, and had completely broken down in Sirius’ arms, before becoming calm all over again to hold onto Sirius as he fell apart.

And now he was snogging his boyfriend senseless.

They broke apart for air and he rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder. Sighing contentedly, he closed his eyes as Sirius’ arms tightened around his waist.

Remus didn’t know how long they stayed like that, simply holding each other, but he was on the brink of dozing off when a silvery-blue weasel appeared through the wall and stopped in front of them.

“Death eaters ambushed the world cup campsite!” it said urgently in Arthur Weasley’s voice. “We are trying to get things under control but Harry’s missing! We found his wand at the scene of crime. The best Aurors are busy and we can’t trust just anyone with this. I already contacted a few other order members to send a search party, but we need more. Apparate to the ministry, Remus. Get an emergency portkey from Kingsley. I have already informed him and Tonks is with me. We are trying to trace him,” it finished before vanishing into thin air.

“Harry!” They both chorused as they shared a look of alarm, before jerking into action. Scrambling to their feet , Sirius quickly grabbed their cloaks and wands and Remus apparated to the ministry to collect the portkey.

Minutes later, he came back with a package and Sirius handed him his cloak as they prepared to leave. Sirius turned into Padfoot and Remus sighed. It was useless trying to convince Sirius to stay behind.

He bend down and placed the portkey on the floor so that Padfoot can also touch it, and seconds later they vanished.

The moment they appeared at the campsite, their heart stopped and eyes widened in horror.

The whole place was in shambles, bodies and injured people were lying here and there as the ministry men tried to help them, and barked orders to their colleagues. Some people were running around looking for their family members. Although no death eaters could be seen, the place was a clear evidence of the mayhem they had caused as all the tents were either destroyed or on fire.

Jesus! Thought Remus as his blood ran cold, his pup was lost in catastrophe like this!

Every worst scenario was already playing through his mind and he shook his head to clear it. This wasn’t the time. He needed to get a hold of himself and focus. He looked down at Padfoot, who seemed to be struggling with the same perturbation and was growling in distress.

He gestured for snuffles to hide when his eyes caught the sight of Arthur making his way towards them along with his eldest sons—Bill and Charlie, followed by Tonks.

“We have traced him down to these woods,” said Arthur without any preamble as he pointed the location on the map. And Remus was glad for that. His inner wolf was getting restless to find his pup and he wasn’t sure if he could’ve remained patient enough for the pleasantries.

“Its a fairly large area to search as we couldn’t trace his exact location,” said Tonks. “Here are the coordinates. Its about 55 to 60 miles away from here. We’ll divide into two groups. Bill and Charlie will go with Arthur and I’ll came with—”

“I’ll go alone,” Remus interrupted her, he needed to take Sirius along with him and no one here knew that he was innocent. “You four can divide into two pairs and I’ll go alone.”

“Are you sure, Remus?” asked Arthur. “We don’t know what we’ll find there and—”

“Don’t worry about me,” said Remus, dismissively. “We need to find him as fast as possible and this is the quickest way,” he insisted, but others still exchanged wary looks and he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ll send for back up if anything happens. We shouldn’t waste anymore time.”

Finally everyone conceded and nodded in agreement.

“Who knows about this?” he asked.

“Only the Weasleys, Tonks and Kingsley,” Arthur answered.

Remus nodded. “Good,” It wouldn’t be safe if Death eaters found out that Harry is defenceless and the Ministry isn’t trustworthy. And they didn’t even know for sure if Harry was simply lost or kidnapped. “How’re the kids?” he asked when he remembered that Ron and Hermione rarely ever left Harry’s side.

“They are all fine,” said Arthur. “A bit shaken, but fine. Ron and Hermione did create quite a scene when they realised Harry’s missing, but we managed to send them back with the others."

Remus nodded in understanding and was relieved to know that everyone else was fine. But it only piqued up his anxiety knowing that his pup was all alone and defenceless.

They were about to part ways when a beautiful stag Patronus came trotting towards them and everyone froze. Everyone except Remus, who immediately recognized it.

“Harry,” he breathed, hoping desperately that it brought good news, “That’s Harry’s Patronus.”

He looked around himself and noticed that the veteran order members have gone pale and realised what’d happened. The last time they’d seen a Patronus reminiscent to this one was 13 years ago, which belonged to one and only James Potter. But before he could dwell on it, everyone snapped back to attention as the stag began speaking.

“I’m safe,” it said in Harry’s voice, “but stuck in the middle of a forest, don’t know where. Hope you can find me. And...is everyone safe?” it finished warily before disappearing into thin air.

Remus let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His pup was safe. He didn’t even realize how frantically worried he’d been until it eased a little after listening to Harry’s message.

“Didn’t know Harry could do that,” said Bill, bemusedly.

“We don’t have time for this,” said Remus, bringing everyone back to the more important task. He sent his own wolf Patronus to Harry, telling him that they are coming for him. He waited impatiently as everyone apparated to their assigned coordinates before gesturing for Padfoot to get out his hiding place.

Making sure that no one was watching them, Padfoot transformed back to Sirius and pulled over his hood to cover his face as Remus handed him the coordinates.

With that settled; they nodded to each other, which was both—reassuring and determined, took a deep breath and disaaparated.


	5. Waiting for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!! Do tell me how you feel about it.

Draco woke up feeling warm and comfortable, the pain in his shoulder was fainter now. He sighed and snuggled deeper into the soft blanket, which smelled like Harry.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that he was wrapped in a soft black overcoat, Harry’s overcoat, and his ears turned pink. Although the memories were a bit hazy, he still remembered Harry holding him, and comforting him, before he had finally fallen asleep in his arms. He could feel a blush rising up his cheeks as memories of Harry carding his hair, and saying nonsensical soothing things to him, came rushing back.

He craned his neck and saw Lyra sleeping next to him and Harry waving his wand and muttering under his breath as he circled around the clearing.

He looked at Harry, really looked at him, and noticed that he was quite handsome: with his ankle high boots and ripped muggle jeans and light grey jumper, and seemed almost impermissible with his jet black shaggy hair and piercings, which made him look so wild and dangerous. He reminded Draco strangely of a pearl, protected under its hard, impenetrable shell, it was something far more precious, soft and pure. Just like Harry, with his caring heart, warm smiles, gentle touches and innocent eyes, all hidden behind his raw look.

Harry turned around and Draco quickly averted his eyes. Suddenly finding the grass very interesting, he plucked them absentmindedly.

He was thoroughly embarrassed about what had happened earlier. How could he have fallen apart like that? He was ashamed of himself, Malfoys don’t show weakness, or fall apart the way he did.

“How’re you feeling?” Harry asked when he noticed Draco was awake.

But Draco didn’t reply, he was too busy glaring at the heap of grass that he had plucked, as if it had offended him. He just couldn’t meet Harry’s eyes. And for some odd reason, it felt like butterflies were playing Quidditch in his stomach.

He looked up and his eyes widened. He hadn’t even realized when Harry had moved closer to him.

Harry was looking at him anxiously, a worried frown marring his face. He tentatively touched Draco’s cheeks, and Draco was so shocked by the sudden contact that he could only stare. Harry then placed his hand on Draco’s forehead, then his neck, then gently held his pale, thin wrist and looked down at his watch and started counting under his breath. Then he let go of Draco’s wrist and frowned, staring contemplatively at his watch.

“Doesn’t seem to have fever at least…” Harry mumbled to himself.

Draco didn’t know how to react. It was all so surreal. Being a Malfoy, he had been trained to act according to the situation and the kind of people he was dealing with. But neither the situation nor the person in front of him was anything like he had ever encountered before. And Harry’s behavior was throwing him a bit off balance, not to mention the butterflies in his stomach won’t settle.

Harry edged closer to him, his hands reaching for Draco’s shirt.

Draco instantly held Harry’s wrist, stopping his progress. “What are you doing?” he asked sharply.

Harry hesitated and his hands faltered. “I…uh…I need to,” he looked away, his cheeks turning crimson, “I need to check your shoulder,” he said in a rush, “to make sure its healing and that—that there are no side effects, or something,” he added hastily.

“Oh,” said Draco, as his eyes darted from their hands to his shoulder to Harry’s face, looking for any sign of deception. He felt like smacking himself for his paranoia when he found nothing but concern and anxiety in those bright green eyes.

Off course Harry wanted to make sure he was ok, thought Draco, the guy had enough chances to harm him if he had wanted to.

“Yeah…ok…alright,” he muttered.

Harry raised his eyebrows, eyes darting towards their hands and Draco instantly let go of his wrist, flushing.

Harry clinically opened his top buttons and Draco noticed that there was no blood on his shoulder, only a thin line of small stiches, almost parallel to his collar bone. He wondered if he had felt Harry cleaning him.

He watched as Harry quickly examined his work, his brows creased in concentration and his pink tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. Draco’s eyes moved from his cherry lips to his small cute nose to his vibrant eyes and then to his forehead—

“Are you all right?”

Draco was abruptly pulled out of his musing.

Harry was sitting on his heels, looking at him worriedly, biting his lip.

“Yeah…yeah…yes I am—I am fine,” Draco stuttered. He could feel his face burning, he had been staring at Harry, quite shamelessly.

“You sure? You look flushed. Is it hurting?” Harry asked nervously.

“No , I am fine,” said Draco firmly, trying to stifle his fluttery feelings, “How long was I out?”

“About an hour, I’ve just finished warding this place,” said Harry, who was now cradling Draco’s ankle, which was wrapped in bandages, checking and probing to ensure it was still well tied and warm. “You scared me there, you know,” he said, pointing at Draco’s shoulder, “I’m sorry if I hurt you…but I had no option and—”

“It’s alright,” Draco interrupted him, “really, I’m fine.”

Harry sighed, “Well. If you say so…but, tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

Draco nodded.

Harry flopped down next to him with a forlorn expression on his face, and they were silent for a while.

“What is it?” Draco asked softly.

“Hmm?” said Harry, still looking lost. He shook his head and sighed heavily. “Nothing, just…worried.”

Draco couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Sorry,” he said in a small voice.

“Don’t be,” said Harry. “It’s not your fault, it’s theirs. They were his people, weren’t they? Voldemort’s?”

Draco flinched.

“Scared of his name, are you?” said Harry, but he sounded exasperated, instead of mocking.

“And for a good reason. He did put a taboo on his name, after all.”

“Taboo?”

“Yeah, it’s a spell, like a trace. Anyone who said his name was immediately tracked down and killed.”

Harry gasped, horrified.

“Soon, people started associating his name with death and murder and stopped taking it all together. The fear of his name still lingered, like a bad omen, even after he was gone.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Harry, his eyes wide in disbelief, and all these times he thought it was cowardly and stupid of the wizards to not take Voldemort’s name. “Do you think he’ll do it again, if he ever,” he gulped, “comes back?”

Draco shrugged, not knowing the answer, and not in the mood to talk about the Dark lord, it gave him creeps. He knew his father was all about blood purity and was on the dark side in the last war, but even he avoided the topic as much as he can. Draco had heard his father cursing the light side and Dumbledore, but he never said much about what he did as a Death Eater. Draco mostly found out about the war from books and articles and whatever small pieces of conversations he caught from his father’s friends during their gatherings and galas, and a few of his classmates whose parents had shifted to France during the first war. And he wasn’t really impressed, more like disgusted. What kind of wizard tries to kill a defenseless baby? It was sick. Purebloods don’t need to attack, maim and murder to prove themselves. It was rather low and barbaric in Draco’s opinion, and he knew his ancestors would agree with him. He’ll never understand why his father joined the Dark side when he was so upright about his traditions and family pride. Maybe because of his hatred for Dumbledore, or maybe something else, Draco didn’t have a clue, and he wasn’t about to question his Father, for he respected him and his decisions, and knew he must’ve had a good reason for choosing the Dark Side, his father wasn’t stupid. And they did come out of the war in one piece, their family and possessions intact. And no matter how much he expected from Draco, being a Death Eater wasn’t on the list, yet, so Draco didn’t really care.

And his father’s decisions always turned out well in the end, even if they seemed bad in the beginning. Like when his father had refused to send him to Hogwarts and wanted him to go to Durmstrang because he didn’t want him to study under that old coot, but eventually settled on Beauxbaton when his Veela heritage was revealed and his mother insisted that Draco would be better off in a place with so many of their connections. Draco had cried and protested that he wanted to go to Hogwarts with Blaze, like the rest of their family, but his father didn’t budge. He had locked himself in his room for days, sulking, and throwing tantrums, because he had so many plans of getting sorted into Slytherin and befriending Harry Potter—his greatest fantasy, and playing Quidditch, but he had soon realized it was all in vain. But now when he looked back, going to France had been good for him. He had a few real Friends and he was able to see the world differently, could concentrate more on his studies as he didn’t have to lead a childish army full of idiots, who thought wearing green and being bigoted made them true Slytherins. He was also pampered more during the holidays, and even his father would accompany him to Qudditch matches since he felt guilty that Draco couldn’t play at school. All in all, Draco was happy with how his life was going.

“Where are we?” he asked after a while.

This time Harry shrugged, “Don’t know.”

“Don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know? How did you apparate us?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you even have a license?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

The expression looked eerily similar to Sirius’, and Harry realized with a start that Draco’s grey eyes also resembled Sirius’s.

“No.” he replied.

“WHAT?” Draco yelled, then lowered his voice when he noticed Lyra stirring beside him, “At least tell me you knew how to apparate.”

“Err…No,” said Harry, rubbing the back of his neck, “What’s the big deal, anyways?”

“What’s the big deal!? What’s the big Deal?!” said Draco, scandalized, “we could have splinched, you tosser. We could have died!”

“And we wouldn’t have died otherwise?” Harry hissed. “What was I ought to do? You were injured, I didn’t have my wand, we had a kid along with us and we were in the middle of a riot, and things only got worse when all of a sudden a skull appeared in the sky! So forgive me if I panicked, okay!” Harry glared, he really had panicked when his scar had started burning—it was never a good sign.

Draco blanched, “What?”

“What, what?”

“You saw…you saw the Dark Mark?”

“Dark Mark? Is that what it’s called? That weird skull that appeared in the sky?”

“Weird skull? Weird skull?!” Draco said faintly, as all the color drained out of his face. “It’s his mark.”

“I gathered that much,” said Harry, confused. “But I don’t understand how it was a bigger problem than what was already going on. I mean...it was just a mark.”

“Don’t you understand? The Dark mark hasn’t been seen in the last thirteen years, and Death Eaters conjure it when they murder someone…it was enough to terrorize the masses…a reminded of the last war.. The Dark mark inspires fear, Harry, it was supposed to do that.”

Harry had gone quiet, Draco’s words hitting too close to home.

Draco noticed that Harry’s eyes have become misty and there was a flash of deep pain and distress in them, and immediately regretted being so harsh and blunt with his words.

“How…”But Harry’s words were caught in his throat. He shook his head and tried again, “How do you know all this?” he asked, just for the sake of it, to get his mind off the images of Sirius coming to his parent’s house and finding them dead, with the Dark mark looming over his house.

Draco shrugged and looked away. He can’t possibly say that his father was a Death Eater who gloated about the first war with his Death Eater friends (or those who claimed to be his friend) and that Draco had heard it from him.

He sighed and looked at Harry, who was looking down at his lap, his head bowed, and was fiddling with his wrist watch. He opened his mouth to ask Harry’s full name but stopped when he got a better look at the watch. He frowned, the watch looked quite familiar. It was a vintage watch, and from what Draco could see, it was surely wizard made and probably—no—defiantly traditional.

“Interesting watch,” Draco drawled, trying to sound casual, although he was hoping to get a clue about who Harry was, without actually asking him.

Harry froze, he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had almost forgotten about Draco. He looked down at the aforementioned watch, he hadn’t even realized he’d been playing with it, and smiled. “It’s my Dad’s,” he said fondly, suddenly feeling the urge to see Sirius, “gave me this summer when I turned fourteen.”

“Fourteen?” said Draco, surprised. Because really, how can a fourteen year old be so magically powerful, and manage to think straight in a situation like this. He himself would have panicked if Harry hadn’t been there.

“Yeah,” Harry gave him a funny look. “Why, do I look older?”

“No,” said Draco, shaking his head, “No, it’s just…how do you know all these healing spells though? Stitching spells are complicated, aren’t they?”

Harry gave him a quirky smile and Draco narrowed his eyes in suspicion, which made the brunet chuckle.

“Dad taught me…he’s a bit overprotective, thinks I get in too much trouble,” Harry snorted, “as if he doesn’t. Which reminds me,” he continued, biting his lip nervously, his mood turning sober “we need to find a way to get out of here, and soon.”

“Lyra has a child trace on her, I’m sure someone’ll be here for us soon. In fact,” Draco frowned, “they should be here by now, or mother will have my father’s neck.” Draco shuddered at the thought of facing his Mother’s wrath. He turned to Harry who still looked a bit uncertain. “You can come with us, you know,” he suggested. That’s the least he can do for Harry, for now. He’ll have to think of a way to properly thank him later, both his conscience and pureblood etiquettes won’t allow him to let it slide without a proper repay. “We’ll help you contact your family and you can stay at the Manor until they come and pick you up.”

Harry shook his head, still chewing his lip. “I don’t want to bother you and anyways—,”he stopped mid-sentence and cursed, “Fuck! Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” before taking out Draco’s wand and closing his eyes. His brows screwed up in concentration before relaxing, as a smile graced his lips.

Draco gasped and his mouth dropped open when he saw a magnificent, translucent, silvery-blue stag erupt from his wand. Harry gave it some message, but Draco was too busy gawking at it to listen.

The stag bowed before trotting off to the end of the clearing where it vanished into thin air.

“Wow,” Draco breathed in awe, “it’s beautiful.”

He looked at Harry, trying and failing to hide his admiration, “I didn’t know schools started teaching patronus charm in third year,” he said, still looking dazed, his eyes wide in astonishment, “I always wanted to learn it.”

“They don’t,” said Harry, rubbing his face with his palms, looking thoroughly wilted. He dropped his hands and spoke, “My godfather taught me…well, he was my professor back then.”

“Why would he teach you that?” Draco asked curiously, something about Harry’s expression didn’t seem right, “aren’t they used to fend off dementors?”

“They are,” Harry mumbled, as he rested his head back against the tree trunk.

“Then why?” Draco asked. Surely Harry didn’t mean what he thought he did.

Harry laughed, a hollow humor less laugh which made a shiver run down Draco’s spine and not in the good way.

“Isn’t it obvious,” he said, finally turning to look at Draco with haunted eyes, “I started attracting them,” he laughed again. “Oh Merlin, I think the exhaustion is finally getting to my head,” because he was feeling light headed, and revealing far too much than he normally would. But he couldn’t stop, his mental filters seemed to have stopped working under the pressure. And it wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. His parents won’t come back and Sirius won’t get his freedom and he didn’t even know what he was thinking now because his train of thoughts didn’t make any sense and he just wanted to go home and sleep. But then he remembered that he didn’t have a place that he could call home.

He sighed, feeling tired from the lack of sleep and hunger after such a long day, and leaned back against the tree trunk before closing his eyes again.

“I always wondered what’s behind their hoods,” Draco muttered to himself.

“Empty eye-sockets and a hole for a mouth,” said Harry tonelessly.

“How do you know?” Draco asked.

“Saw it myself,” Harry muttered.

Draco scowled, like he would believe that load of bullshit. “Had a nice chat over tea with them, did you?” he drawled.

Harry shrugged.

Draco stared. For a moment he thought Harry was joking, and was ready with a scathing remark. But when nothing like that happened, he couldn’t suppress his curiosity and asked, “How’s it like?”

“Cold…and hopeless,” Harry mumbled, too tired to even feel bothered by the questions. “Makes you relive your worst memories.”

“What do you see?” Draco asked before he could stop himself, and mentally cursed for being such an idiot and asking such a personal question. He wasn’t surprised when Harry didn’t answer.

Draco wondered what he would see if he ever encountered one, not that he ever wanted to, but he was just curious. Will it be the time when Theodore Nott had locked him in a dark storage and Draco had burned his hands? Or will it be the time when he had nearly missed a werewolf attack. Or will it the time when—

“I hear my parents.” Harry whispered.

Draco was startled out of his thoughts at Harry’s voice, but he remained quiet and watched intently as Harry spoke, wondering how parents can be someone’s worst memory, until—

“I hear them just before they died,” he continued, staring into the distance as his eyes became a little unfocused.

Draco inhaled sharply and his lips parted in shock.

“I hear my father telling my mum to run with me to safety…just before he was murdered,” Harry mumbled, his voice just above a whisper. “I hear my mum begging him to spare my life. I hear her scream, while he just…just laughs after killing her,” he finished, his voice cracking at the end.

Draco didn’t even dare to ask who He was. The revelation had his stomach churning and goosebumps rising on his skin. It all sounded like the most bone-chilling nightmare. And to think that Harry had lived through it, again and again, had his blood curdling.

Harry curled into himself. He wrapped his arms around his folded knees and rested his cheek on them, facing away from Draco.

Draco stared, paralyzed. He didn’t realize that he wasn’t even breathing as he listened to Harry. He just wanted Harry to stop. He regretted even bringing it up. The torment in his voice was heart wrenching and it made Draco’s chest feel tight. He didn’t know if he was becoming soft all of a sudden or if it was just Harry that made him want to just hug him and comfort him, but it was the first time he had ever felt like this.

Harry looked so small and vulnerable. And it scared Draco, because unconsciously he had been associating Harry with safety in the last few hours and looking at him now reminded him that Harry was just a 14 year old boy, just like him.

And it unnerved him.

He wanted to do something, anything, to console Harry. But he didn’t know what to do. It was mostly Shambhavi who did these things when Draco got upset over something. And she rarely ever needed consoling, anyway.

Maybe if he did what she does, then he could cheer Harry up. But he didn’t have chocolates here, so that plan was off. What else did she do to cheer him up? Going for shopping or taking him to some fashion show isn’t an option either. And although Draco would never admit it even on his death bed but, he did feel a little better when she gave him hugs or just brushed his hair until he fell asleep whenever he got particularly nasty letters from home or if he fell sick. These occasions were rare as Draco mostly preferred to bury his feelings and move on, but whenever the dam broke, she was always there to help him through it, and thankfully she never mentioned his breakdowns or forced him to talk about them later, and lets him have his pride.

But then…he wasn’t sure how any of these methods could help him in this situation. He can’t really give Harry a hug or brush his hair while talking him to sleep, even if he wanted to. Although, Harry did the same thing with him a few hours ago…so, maybe he could do that.

And Harry did look as if he had been enervated to his very soul and looks ready to collapse any second, so, maybe a little rest was a good idea. And Draco was sure that Harry had been exerting himself far more than a person should, that too without food and water. And he couldn’t deny that he was quite worried about Harry.

He finally came to a decision and edged towards Harry, who was still looking away. He raised his hand and—

He started when a huge silvery blue wolf came barreling towards them.

Harry’s head whipped around and his face immediately lit up at the sight of the wolf and Draco hastily pulled his hand back, pretending to have never raised it.

“Pup!,” it exclaimed, “don’t worry, we have traced you and we are coming for you and everyone is safe.

“Don’t panic and stay calm, ok?”

Harry snorted softly, clearly someone else needed to calm down.

“And, we have your wand,” it finished.

“About time,” Harry muttered, but a smile tucked at the corner of his lips. “Well, this is weird.”

“What is?” Draco asked.

“Nothing,” said Harry, yawning. He shook his head and said, “I’m just surprised to know he is coming, I sent my message to someone else. Relax, Its not a bad thing,” he added quickly when he saw the apprehension on Draco’s face.

Draco relaxed. If Harry says its fine, then it must be. “Harry?”

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, tiredly.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Draco started slowly, he just couldn’t control his curiosity. Harry was just so fascinating. “Why is your patronus a stag? Its quite rare, you know, a stag, I mean.” Draco didn’t know why he wasn’t as eloquent and why he wasn’t speaking as confidently as he always does. But that fluttery feeling in his stomach was making him nervous and self conscious.

Harry shrugged, “Don’t know, only that, my father was a stag. But,” he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm and sighed, “he’s dead, so…” he trailed off before shrugging again.

Silence fell upon them for a long time.

Harry relaxed and slouched back against the tree, finally free of all the tension. Now he just had to wait. Sighing, he closed his eyes and snuggled into the warm body next to him. Now that he didn’t have anything to worry about, he was feeling far more drained. His eyelids felt heavy and itchy and he just wanted to sleep. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly slowly falling into slumber, surrounded by the strong sweet smell of coffee and chocolate.

Draco froze when he felt the light weight of Harry’s head on his right shoulder. He didn’t move at all, didn’t even dare to breath as he tried to control his rabidly increasing heart beat. He could feel Harry’s soft hair tickling his cheek, his breath caressing his neck. He could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his weight making Draco feel safe, and protective for Harry at the same time.

Draco slowly tilted his head, his shoulder tense, and looked at Harry. Then slowly, very slowly, he relaxed and exhaled, all the while watching his face to make sure he was still soundly asleep.

He watched as Harry slept, soft puffs of air leaving his parted lips. He looked so peaceful and calm, with no care in the world. Draco couldn’t believe that it was the same boy who had just saved him from an impossible situation, healed him, kept him warm and safe, cared for him. He couldn’t believe that it was the same boy who was power full enough to perform wandless, break wards without batting an eyelash, who could radiate enough magic to make people intoxicated. He couldn’t believe that it was the same powerful boy who was as humble and innocent as they come. It all seemed so impossible. Draco wouldn’t have believed that a person like this existed, but how can he deny the living evidence in front of him. He had known Harry for only a few hours yet he had seen so many sides of Harry that it has left a strong and permanent impression on his heart.

And with a jolt he realized that Harry was an orphan and must have been through hell if he could manage such a situation so calmly, if he knew things no fourteen year old needs to know, about Dementors and complicated healing spells. The realization squeezed his heart and made his eyes prickle, and he blinked rapidly, berating himself for being such a sap.

But his next thought didn’t help. Soon someone would be here to take them and then—then Draco would never get a chance to see Harry, to know him, to talk to him and smile with him. It was the first time he had felt like wanting to know someone closely, knowing someone for who they were, not because they were family friends or children of important people. Not someone whom Draco had just luckily crossed paths with and gradually became friends along the way. Blaise was a family friend and Shambhavi had just luckily clicked into the role. But this was the first time Draco wanted to befriend someone, to know them, to understand them and share with them.

And it all made him feel so angry, because, of all the times and places and people, it had to be this. Where Draco won’t even have a chance.

Come to thinks of it, he should have asked Harry’s name, maybe, just maybe, they could become friends, even if they only corresponded through letters, it would still be better than nothing.

He did not have the heart to wake Harry up and ask his name though. Harry needed rest, and it would look too creepy and desperate on Draco’s part.

He sighed, he’d just have to wait for Harry to wake up.

He felt Harry’s face slipping down his shoulder as his body went limp.

Draco’s arm darted out to wrap around Harry’s shoulder, to prevent him from falling. He shifted a little to adjust Harry’s head comfortably on his shoulder again. His face was now buried into the crook of Draco’s neck and Draco’s arm was still wrapped around him.

Harry mumbled something in his sleep, snuggled a little closer and wrapped his arms around Draco’s torso, as if holding a big teddy bear.

Draco waited with baited breath as he allowed Harry to get comfortable, scared that he would wake up. Then exhaled when Harry’s breath evened out again.

He contemplated removing his arm, but decided against it when Harry’s hands tightened around him, just a little.

He lightly caressed Harry’s shoulder and arm and drew small circles on it, watching as his face relaxed and the worry lines on his forehead smoothed out.

He gently ran his fingers through the soft thick locks and smiled softly when Harry sighed happily.

Soon Draco felt his eyelids drooping. He glanced at Lyra to make sure she was still sleeping in her silence bubble, then rested his cheek on top of Harry’s head, not minding the tickling black hair one bit, and closed his eyes.

The only thoughts he had in his mind was: he’ll wait for Harry.

And then his breathing evened out, unaware, that the same thought was etched on his heart as well.

_He’ll wait for Harry._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Do leave your reviews. I know its slow and everyone is excited about the tournament , its comming soon. The next or next to next chapter. I just dont want to miss on the details and ruin the feels. So i hope you guys are ok with it. Also i had decided to start the fic from the tournament but then, i always wanted harry and draco to see each other without the prejudice of their names so, i am going this way. But dont worry it will actually become fun when they find out who the other one is.  
> On the other hand, i am trying to balance the events in the real book with the fanfic keeping in mind that draco didnt go to hogwarts. So i ll have to lay down certain plot backgrounds and fill in loop holes and proper reasoning for all those stuff and thats why i have to be careful. Also now that the dynamics if different, the real events will also be affected differently, so i have to manage that too. I want to make sure that the fic makes sense and isnt too off balance. So to maintain the flow i ll take advantage of the loopholes in the real books or twist the events in my way because draco's presence will change a lot of things. 
> 
> Now SUGGEST ME SOME LONG CUTE DRARRY FANFICTIONS PLZZ.  
> The real motivation behind writing this fic was: i always wanted to read a beaxbaton draco, and i have read so many fanfictions that i have pretty much exhausted the stock of long cute fanfics. So i was like 'if i dont find good fics then i ll write it'. However reading your own work isnt as gud cuz i dont get the feels because i know wat will happen.  
> Now plz long and cute fics with no angst cus angst is a little frstrating and by long i mean 100k or some thing.. and now m losing my drive due to lack of fics to read. Plz. I love you all guys.  
> Thankyou.


	6. Building Barriers and Breaking Burrow (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE!!  
> This chapter was getting really long so it's devided into two parts. The next part will be uploaded soon. 
> 
> Also their won't be drarry in these couple of chapters, well not direct atleast, because:  
> 1 I need to balance the plot and fill the loop holes about how things turn out differently since Draco is not their for the first three years in Harry's hogwarts life. 
> 
> 2 since we know that the tri wizard tournament started at the end of October. So don't worry, I won't write the whole two months as most of it will be similar to cannon but I still need to give an insight and set the pace so that it doesn't seem like I am simply fast forwarding to two months. Also a bit of background setting is necessary.
> 
> 4 Also, although these chapters seem useless from the plot point of view now, they are important for the development of the story. 
> 
> 5 And finally, I am a sucker for wolfstar being happy and together and having fun with harry so their will be loads of Sirius and remus and chilling and supporting each other. Things that I always wanted to be their in the books so. 
> 
> That said, Happy reading!

“Remus! Remus! I found him. He’s here!”

Draco heard a voice shout. Then came the sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps. He groaned at the noise disturbing his comfortable slumber and opened his eyes. Looking groggily at his surroundings he noticed the silhouette of a tall man making his way towards them. Sun had barely risen and Draco was in no mood to wake up just yet; so he cuddled into the soft human size pillow next to him and closed his eyes.

Only to snap them open again. His head whipped around to look for the source of the voice, all traces of sleep forgotten. His wand was vibrating alarmingly, signalling the breech of wards that Harry had placed.

And there, in front of him, where he was sure he had seen a man earlier, was standing a huge black dog. It prowled towards them with languid strides and he realised with a jolt that it was, unmistakably, a Grim.

He didn’t even dare to breath or so much as blink as it came closer. He could still hear the crunching of dried leaves, the muffled thuds of hasty footsteps of someone rushing towards them, and wished that who so ever their saviour was, would hurry up because Draco didn’t want to be eaten by a Grim. It would be such a slow and painful death, not to mention ugly. Or maybe he would just die of heart attack, because he was sure it was beating so fast that it would rip out of his chest.

The creature was so close now that Draco got a clear view of its long sharp fangs. It was as if all his senses were on overdrive: he could hear his own frantic heartbeat, could feel the tremors of the ground beneath him as the monster made its way towards them, could feel his throat go dry.

The animal’s grey eyes, which seemed humanly intelligent, peered into his. He stared back, unblinking, not daring to make any movement, scared that even the slightest twitch would somehow trigger the creature into action.

The only small relief was that, at least the beast seemed keen on eating him instead of Lyra. But even that thought flew out of his mind as it sniffed him. Once, twice, thrice, then growled low in its throat. The sound seemed to echo in the clearing, making it even more threatening. Then it turned its large head and looked at Harry.

Draco tightened his grip on him, clutching him for dear life, as if that would save them from their impending doom. The feral beast sniffed Harry as he stirred a little in his sleep.

Draco wasn’t sure if it was the wild imagination of his frantic mind, but for a moment it seemed like the grim was satisfied with itself. Time slowed down as it moved closer to Harry’s face, its muzzle sniffing him as if its savouring the flavour of a delicious meal and then it opened its mouth and Draco’s mind was screaming because he wasn’t ready to watch Harry die, and he had to do something. Its fangs were inches away from Harry’s neck and then it—

Licked. It fucking licked Harry’s cheeks.

Draco squeaked.

Harry giggled sleepily and finally woke up. But instead of looking alarmed at the sight of a large deadly creature so close to him, he laughed, “Pad-foot!”

His eyes lit up as he scratched the grim behind its ears. It purred, wagging its tail happily, like a small domestic puppy.

Draco was so dumbfounded by the bizarre scene that he could only stare with his mouth hanging open.

“You should have waited for me!”

A man in shabby robes had just appeared into the clearing. He had brown hair and hazel eyes and his face was scarred.

“Moony!”

“Harry!” said the man, “for the love of god, stop scaring us like that, we were so worried!”

Harry grinned, “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

The man ruffled Harry’s hair and patted the dog’s head.

“Harry!” Draco squealed, and all three heads snapped to look at him. “What’s going on?” he asked tremulously.

Harry smiled. “This,” he said pointing at the man, “is my honorary god father Remus Lupin and this,” he pointed at the grim , who barked, “is...er...well, he is—”

“He’s our pet,” said Lupin throwing his arm around its shaggy black mane.

“Yes,” said Harry, “he’s our pet, snuffles.”

Draco stared. “What the...” he stuttered, but recovered quickly, “Who the hell names a grim ‘Snuffles’?” he said, incredulous. “In fact, who in their right minds have a Grim for a pet!”

“Aww, don’t say that,” Harry cooed sweetly, rubbing its belly as it rolled on the ground, “he’s such a good boy, aren’t you snuffles?”

Snuffles barked, as if in agreement, its tongue lolling at the side.

Then they both, Harry and Lupin, looked at Draco with a straight face before bursting into howls of laughter.

Draco spluttered indignantly. He had a feeling that he was missing something, some really extravagant inside joke, and Harry and his godfather were having a laugh over it while He remained clueless.

He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. Yes scowled, not pout. He certainly did not just pout.

“Anyways,” said Lupin, “c’mon Harry, we need to leave. I already informed everyone that we’ve got you when...er...snuffles found you.”

“You said you have my wand,” said Harry. “How did you find it? Where was it?"

“Arthur has it, I don’t know anything else but I’m sure he’ll enlighten you. Now, c’mon, you look sick.”

“I’m fine,” said Harry, waving off his concern, but he didn’t sound fine at all. He glanced at Draco then added, “And we can’t leave them here anyways. We should wait till someone comes for—”

Crack.

“Young Master!!!oh young mistress!!”

Everyone jumped back in surprise at the cry of a house elf that had just apparated into the clearing. Lupin already had his wand at the ready, pointed at the little creature, but lowered it when he saw what it was. The grim growled but relaxed at the sight of the elf and butted its head into Harry’s palm, who had stopped ruffling its fur at the sudden arrival and was looking at the elf with mingled shock and confusion.

“Tilli!”

“Oh, young Master remembers Tilli’s name,” it squealed happily before bursting into tears, “such...an...honour,” it sobbed, large tears rolling down its wrinkled face from its large tennis ball sized eyes, as it clutched its pillow case and threw itself at Draco’s feet.

Draco winced, backing away a little.

“Oh no! Tilli hurt young Master!” it wailed before smacking its head against the nearest tree trunk. “Bad Tilli! Bad Tilli!”

Harry jumped to his feet to stop the little creature from hurting itself.

“Tilli! Tilli stop!” said Draco, wide eyed.

“Bad Tilli! Bad Tilli! Tilli hurt young master, Tilli must punish herself, Tilli must!.”

Harry looked at him, alarmed. He was getting nowhere close to consoling her.

“Tilli, I order you to stop this instant!”

She seized her self punishment at Draco’s direct command and stood up on trembling legs, blowing her nose noisily on her pillowcase.

“Good. Now tell me, why are you here?”

She bowed and gave him a locket which Draco took. Harry and Lupin were watching him curiously, as if expecting him to do something.

“Is this a Port-key?”

She bobbed her head frantically, her large ears flapping around her face like hand fans.

“Thank you, Tilli.”

She beamed at him, “young master is so kind,” she squeaked, clapping her hands and bowing low enough for her nose to touch the ground.

Draco nodded. “What took you so long?” he asked calmly, raising an eyebrow, back in his Malfoy heir persona at the sight of something familiar, something that he was used to.

“Young Master! Tilli is very sorry,” she snivelled breaking into silent sobs, “Tilli tried to find young Master but, Tilli couldn’t. Tilli couldn’t,”

“Oh...,” said Harry, “my wards must have confused her. I made them to repel creatures,” he explained when Draco looked at him questioningly.

“Ah...yes,” said Lupin, “I must say they were really impressive, Harry, I kept getting confused whenever I got close enough. I had to remove them, and this bastard didn’t even wait for me before running away,” he added, glaring at the dog good naturedly.

Snuffles rolled his eyes and snorted, looking mischievous.

Draco didn’t know what to make of Lupin’s remark about him getting confused because of the wards instead of the beast, or of the fact that Snuffles wasn’t acting like a dog should. But then again, he had never come across a Grim before, who knew what kind of powers they had? He shook his head and looked back at Tilli.

“Never mind,” said Draco waving off the elf’s apology, “And what about Lyra’s trace? Someone should have been here hours ago,” he asked coolly.

If anything, she sobbed harder, “Mistress is so worried. She couldn’t, she couldn’t—she didn’t know how—"

“What do you mean?” Draco asked sharply. He knew that the key for Lyra’s trace was with his father but—

“Master hasn’t returned. He hasn’t and—mistress is so worried. Oh! my poor mistress...” she continued to wail as Harry tried to calm her, but to no avail.

But Draco wasn’t listening anymore. Why was his father not home yet? What must have happened to him? Was he arrested? Was he being taken to Azkaban? No, that’s not possible, his father was too smart to get caught into something like that. But sending his bonded elf must have been a desperate attempt on his mother’s part to find him, which meant there was something seriously wrong. His stomach dropped and he felt ill, unguarded, threatened. He pulled Harry’s coat tighter around himself, desperate for the small sense of security that it provided. How was his mother taking it, all alone with no news about any of them? He ran his fingers through his hair getting more and more anxious by every passing minute. A huge lump had formed in his throat, making him choke on his own breath as he struggled keep himself collected and maintain his equilibrium, while his insides chilled with dread.

“Draco,” said Harry, softly, “Are you alright?”

Draco shook his head and looked around as if hoping for his father to appear. Harry handed him his wand and he took it wordlessly. Tilli was still bawling her eyes out while Lupin tried to stop her and the Grim was watching the whole scene curiously, its head cocked at one side.

“Tilli, you are dismissed,” said Draco shakily and she vanished with a pop.

He didn’t look at anyone else. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to go home and make sure his family was okay. He tried to get up but it was difficult with his injured shoulder and ankle still healing, and his back bruised.

Harry edged forward to help him—

“Don’t,” said Draco, holding up his hand.

—and he stopped midstride, looking at him concernedly, but not daring to move forward, scared that Draco would fly off the handle.

Finally Draco managed to stand. He waved his wand to remove the silencing charm around Lyra and picked her up, his jaw clenched as he tried to ignore the throbbing pain. The news that his mother must be all alone, worried for their lives without his father had made him more resolute. And damn him if he would let his weaknesses show at a time like this.

Lyra stirred, opened her eyes and looked at him blearily, but went back to sleep when she saw it was just him.

He rested her head on his good shoulder and stroked her hair, trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes and breathed into the scent of lavender and strawberries of her baby shampoo, just to reassure himself that she was okay.

He looked back at Harry, who was watching him with worry etched across his face.

“Thank you,” Draco said quietly, because he couldn’t think of anything else at the moment.

Harry nodded, looking at him intently, but didn’t say anything, even if it seemed like he wanted to.

And Draco understood. Because even he wanted to say a lot of things, but all his thoughts of farewell and friendship were pushed at the back of his head, covered by the anxiety for his family. And Draco didn’t have the time to rummage through his tangled emotions and find the right words for Harry. Harry, who had somehow left him speechless. Who’s vivid green eyes were imprinted in his mind forever. Harry, who’s laughter would ring through his ears in the near future whenever it would be silent or lonely, and would leave him with sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling, playing their conversation in his head again and again.

He knew he’d never be able to look at green just as a colour ever again, knew that he would never find any other pair of eyes beautiful enough, knew that he won’t be able to stop himself from turning and looking around hopefully for a glimpse of messy black hair whenever he’d hear the name ‘Harry’.

He knew something shifted within him in that moment when Harry gave him a small, hesitant, but genuine smile and waved his hand timidly. Knew that he would think of this moment in several empty minutes, in hundred different ways, of how well it could have gone, but didn’t.

He felt a twinge of dull ache in his chest at the thought, but quashed it brutally and turned away. Ignoring the moistening of his eyes (which had nothing to do with his parents), he whispered, “Portus” before vanishing on the spot, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. Oblivious to the regret he would feel over the abrupt ending of their little reprieve.  
**  
Harry stood there, staring where Draco had been seconds ago. He felt hollow from inside, a small empty hole in his chest which has always been there and he had only just now realised it, and now that he did, he wanted to fill it up because it felt devoid of any warmth and was making him squeamish.

Sirius was also staring at the spot, looking thoughtful. After a while he shook his head and said, “c’mon pup, lets go. Get on my back.”

“What? No!” said Harry, who was abruptly brought out of his thoughts by the unusual pronouncement.

“You look ready to fall any second,” said Sirius as he crouched down on his knees.

“I don’t!” said Harry, indignantly.

Sirius ignored it and patted his shoulder, “Oh, c’mon, you loved riding on my back when you were little.”

“I think it has probably escaped your notice, but I have grown up since then.”

“And so have I,” Sirius retorted, “Now, quick. We don’t have the whole day.”

“Remus!” said Harry, rounding on him, although he didn’t know why.

Remus just raised an eyebrow, “He’s right, Harry, just do as he says,” he said, shrugging.

“This isn’t fair! You both can’t team up against me like this!” Harry whined, stamping his foot and glaring at a smug looking Sirius. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted when they both just cocked an amused eyebrow clearly saying ‘ _really_?’

Remus shook his head, “Just get on, Harry. You look like you can use some rest...and healing,” he added, frowning at Harry’s cut cheeks, scraped palms and bruised knees, which were visible through his ripped jeans.

Harry had been so focused on Draco that he had completely forgotten about the sharp splinters that had grazed his face during the blast at the riot, or about his knees which he had bruised when he had unceremoniously kneeled over on the rough surface while trying to help Draco, or when he had hit the ground hard after that jackleg attempt at apparition; and so many other scathes that he had endured in the hustle and bustle of the chaos that had erupted last night. He felt sore, and now that all his injuries have been pointed out, they stung.

His stomach gave a loud growl.

“And food,” added Remus.

“I’m fine!” said Harry doggedly, even though he swayed a little on his feet, “I can walk by myself!”

“Clearly not,” said Remus flatly. When Harry opened his mouth to protest, he said exasperatedly, “look! I don’t have the time nor the patience to handle two of the most stubborn people in the world and the quicker we get out of here, the better—and there’s no need to look so smug Sirius! Harry isn’t as light as he seems and you are getting old!”

“Speak for yourself,” said Sirius, haughtily, flipping his hair over his shoulder with flourish, “I am young enough to outlive both of you.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose and tutted. He gestured for Harry to just go along with it, and Harry relented; he never wanted to mess with a chafed Remus.

He grumbled and reluctantly climbed on Sirius’ back, feeling mortified.

Sirius stood up easily and Harry tightened his hold around his neck.

“Alright,” said Remus, “we’ll apparate on the grounds near the Burrow, and walk from there since we aren’t keyed to their wards. Here,” he held out his hand, which Sirius grabbed, “hold on tight, Harry.”

Harry shut his eyes as he felt the uneasy sensation of being squeezed through a small pipe, then opened them again when they landed with a soft thud, a few yards away from the Burrow.

They started walking towards it, Harry’s head poking out from over Sirius’ shoulder. He thought it wasn’t so bad to get a piggy back ride as long as he forgot about being embarrassed. He had seen fathers carrying their kids like that when he was in primary school and had always secretly envied them. He didn’t know if he was only imagining it because Sirius had mentioned about him enjoying it as a toddler but he felt a weird sense of Deja vu. A vivid picture of Sirius dancing around with baby Harry sitting on his shoulders, giggling and clapping, while James laughed in the background, flashed across his mind, making him grin sleepily.

They felt the tingling of wards as Remus opened the creaking door for Sirius, who gently laid Harry on the worn out couch in the living room as the door shut behind them.

But before Harry could sink into the cushions and relax, or Sirius could change back to his animagus form, they heard the bangs of several doors being opened, followed by the hurried patter of footsteps making their way down the stairs and the sound of the living room door being shoved hard.

“Harry!”

He barely managed to stand on time to hold onto a sobbing Hermione, who came flying into his arms.

She punched his chest repeatedly, “You—reckless—idiot—sad—excuse—of a—wizard! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING GOING MISSING LIKE THAT!” she shouted, her eyes red and blotchy.

Harry chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, only letting go when Ron entered.

“You gave us a damn scare, mate,” said Ron, who had dark circles under his eyes.

Harry gave them a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He knew they both must have been up all night, waiting for news about him, “Its a long story, I’ll tell you later, yeah?”

Ron patted his back, giving him a side hug, and Hermione gave him a watery smile, sniffling.

Just then, Mrs. Weasley came bustling into the room. “Harry de—!!”

She stopped midsentence and shrieked, “Get away from them!” she shouted, shrilly.

Harry looked up, baffled, and his eyes widened in alarm.

Mrs. Weasley was standing in the doorway, arms wide open, trying to stop Ginny and the twins from entering. Mr. Weasley, Bill and Charlie had their wands out, their hands shaking as they pointed it towards Harry, their faces pale and terrified.

“Harry, Ron, Hermione, come here, quick!” said Mr. Weasley.

Shocked, Harry looked back at Ron and Hermione, who had similar expressions of horror and realisation on their faces as they looked over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry whirled around, realisation hitting him like a bludger.

Sirius also had his wand out, although he had made no move to aim it at anyone, and Remus had a death grip on his forearm, as if scared that someone would take Sirius away, or maybe it was to stop him from doing anything reckless.

Everyone looked anxious and tense, ready to strike at the slightest movement.

Then all hell broke loose.

Suddenly, Mr. Weasley and Charlie leaped forward, as Bill aimed his wand right at Harry, behind whom Sirius was standing. Mr. Weasley grabbed Ron and Hermione—pulling them out of harms way—as Charlie made to capture Harry, who backed away instinctively, his back hitting Sirius. Bill’s curse came reeling towards them just as Sirius pulled Harry against his chest and spun around, wrapping his arms around him protectively, shielding him from the spell.

There was a crash and a frustrated yell, and someone shouted, “Be careful, they’ve got Harry!!”

There were serval loud bangs and clatter of broken china, mixed with the cacophony of spells being fired all around the place.

Harry couldn’t tell what was happening around him as his face was buried into Sirius’s robes, who’s one hand was cradling the back of his head, covering it, while the other one was holding him In a death grip so much so that Harry could hear Sirius’ frantic heartbeat. He didn’t know how Remus was managing to duel three people all together while trying to protect both him and Sirius at the same time, but Harry was bloody scared for him.

How could he have been so stupid? He knew that it was risky for Sirius to be seen, and yet he had been ignorant. All their meetings had somehow made Harry careless; he had almost forgotten that Sirius is still a mass murderer in the eyes of the world. And now Harry had endangered not only his godfather but everyone else in the room.

Although he knew none of them would use anything nasty, scared that it may hit one of the children, but Harry had to stop it before anyone got seriously injured. His heart lurched at the thought of what could have happened if Remus hadn’t been there, or if Charlie had taken Harry. The Weasleys would have cursed Sirius relentlessly in an effort to protect them and Sirius wouldn’t have been able to retaliate, terrified of hurting Harry or his friends.

Sirius winced as one of the spells hit him, but his grip on Harry didn’t loosen.

Harry made a split second decision and tangled his leg with Sirius’, making him lose his balance. And before Sirius could react, Harry pulled him down with himself, snatching his wand in the process. He rolled around, regained his balance, stood up and aimed straight at the nearest Weasley, “Expelliarmus!”

Charlie’s wand went flying out of his hand and he toppled over, crashing into Mr. Weasley, sending them both to the floor.

Mrs. Weasley screamed, horrified, and Ginny, who had finally managed to break free of her mother’s grip, screeched at the sight of Harry hexing them instead of the supposed criminal.

Remus used the distraction to disarm Bill just as Harry disarmed Mr. Weasley.

“Harry, wha—?” Mrs, Weasley started, looking appalled, her hand clutching her chest.

“Look, I’m sorry—” Harry began.

“Harry! Come here,”

“No, no, listen—”

“Harry! Get away from him—!!”

“No, please, listen—!”

“Harry, come here before he—”

“He won’t do anything! Will you please listen—!”

“Oh god, Arthur,” she moaned, “I think he has cursed him—”

“ _No! He didn’t do anything to me!_ ” Harry shouted, getting riled up.

“He’ll kill all of us!!” she cried.

“ _He won’t hurt anyone!!”_

“He just tried to kidnap you!!”

“FOR FUCKS SAKE! HE WAS TRYING TO PROTECT ME! HE COULD HAVE EASILY USED ME AS A HOSTAGE BUT HE WAS PROTECTING ME AND GOT HURT IN THE PROCESS!” said Harry, loudly, his patience running thin.

Silence followed his words.

He turned around and helped Sirius to his feet, “You alright, Dad?”

“Yeah,” said Sirius, straightening up, brushing his cloak as he did so, “Next time, give me a little warning, will you? I don’t really fancy being manhandled like that.”

Harry grinned and tuned to Remus, who was crouched down with his hands on his knees, panting. “Remus?”

“No harm done,” he said, giving him a small smile.

Ginny whimpered, “Mum, I think you are right they’ve—”

“Oh for the last time! I am completely fine!”

“Then why are you defending Sirius Black?” asked Fred.

“And why are you calling him Dad?” asked George.

“Because I want to,” Harry said dryly. Looking at all their mystified faces he sighed, “Look, I’ll explain everything if you’ll all just calm down and listen.”

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to speak but Harry beat her to it.

“I already have his wand so you don’t have to worry, okay, just please listen before you do anything else. Please,” Harry said desperately, he didn’t want them to misunderstand and report Sirius, sending him straight to Azkaban. When they still looked apprehensive, he turned to Remus and outstretched his hand. Remus sighed , then reluctantly, gave his wand to Harry. “See, they can’t do anything now.”

“Alright Harry,” It was Mr. Weasley who spoke (he, Bill and Charlie, were standing now, but still looked wary).

“Arthur! What possible explanation could be there for this...this...scandal!?” said Mrs. Weasley, incredulous.

“We need to give them a chance to tell their side of the story before jumping to any conclusion. I am sure Harry has a solid reason behind his actions and we should listen to him. That’s my final decision as the head of the family,” he added with a tone of authority when Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to protest.

She huffed, looking miffed, “I’ll make tea, then,” she said and stormed out of the room.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry, relieved.

“You better have a great justification for your actions, young man.” Mr. Weasley smiled genially and sat down on the arm chair motioning for the others to settle as well.

Harry sat on the couch, sandwiched between his godfathers. Bill and Charlie sat on the sofa across Harry’s, leaving space for Mrs. Weasley, while the twins sat on the armrests on either side of the sofa. Ginny, Hermione and Ron sat on the floor, their backs against the couch. Harry felt something was missing but shrugged it off as Mrs. scurried into the room and handed everyone tea, then settled next to Charlie.

Then all eyes turned to Harry, looking at him expectantly. Harry shifted uncomfortably, and looked at Ron and Hermione, who gave him an encouraging nod. He turned to Sirius for help, who shrugged and simply leaned back against the couch, stretched his legs under the table and rested him arm at the back of the couch, around Harry’s shoulder, looking bored.

But Harry knew the truth. Sirius had just shown full confidence in Harry, trusting him to explain something that may just decide his freedom, and maybe life; And that he was okay with however Harry wanted to deal with it, all the while being a comforting presence next to him, like an anchor.

Harry didn’t know when he’d get used to all these small things that Sirius and Remus did for him that made his chest swell with affection and warmth for both of them.

He cleared his throat, “So...um...Remus, here, is my honorary God Father...he was my parent’s friend, you see. And, Sirius is my Godfather...legally and everything...once he’s proven innocent, that is—”

“Proven innocent?” questioned Mr. Weasley, “Harry, are you trying to say that Sirius Black—”

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” said Sirius, casually.

“I mean Mr. Black here—” he corrected hastily.

“You can just call me Sirius, Mr. Black makes me feel old,” joked Sirius.

And just like that the tension in the room broke and everyone relaxed a little. Everyone, except Mrs. Weasley, Harry noticed.

“So, he isn’t your Godfather till he is proven innocent?” said Mrs. Weasley, looking hopeful.

“Why do you ask?” Sirius asked sharply, which immediately put everyone on high alert.

“J-just c-curious,” said Mrs. Weasley, trying to muster a genuine smile, but it ended up being a grimace. Harry didn’t understand why she would ask something like that. And apparently, Sirius seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“No,” said Harry, trying to get the conversation going, “Sirius won’t get my custody till he is proven innocent.”

Mrs. Weasley seemed to relax, and for some reason Harry didn’t feel right about what he had just revealed. Why was she so happy with the fact that Harry wasn’t allowed to stay with Sirius?

The prospect made Harry feel uneasy, and his exhausted and hungry brain lost track of all the other thoughts. And Remus seemed to sense his discomfort.

“Arthur, Harry is really tired, he had had a really rough day today—”

“No, its okay Remus,” Harry reassured him. “I owe them an explanation. I just need time to sort out my thoughts.”

“Maybe, Harry could tell us what happened today and when he is comfortable, he can explain the rest,” suggested Mr. Weasley.

“Yeah, that sounds great, I suppose,” said Harry.

Remus sighed, looking dejected. He just wanted to take his pup and Sirius home with him and eat and sleep and make sure they were fine. When he had apparated here he had expected Harry to get a nice sleep and food and medical attention, not a duel and interrogation. And Sirius already seemed defeated knowing that Harry has to stay here for the rest of the week till school starts, and that he’d have to just go along with it. Although Remus was sure that Sirius just wanted to fuck the system and take Harry to Grimmauld place and make sure Harry stays safe. Remus shook his head and looked at Harry as he started explaining what had happened to him.

Harry explained how he, Ron and Hermione were running towards the woods and how he had realized the lack of his wand; To which Sirius made a mental note of reminding Harry to wear his wand holster all the time till it becomes a habit.

Harry then explained about the little girl and the blast and how he had ran for her, but had been late—

“Oh, no!” Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

“No, no , she was fine, her brother managed to erect a strong shield just on time—"

She relaxed, “Oh thank God!”

“But,” Harry’s face contorted, “the thing was...he didn’t have enough time to erect a shield for himself and, you know, he sort of...”Harry made blasting sound, gesturing with his hands and everyone looked horror struck, giving Harry their rapt attention.

“At first, I didn’t know about her brother as I had only seen her and had assumed that someone must have just protected her, just like I wanted to,” he shrugged, “But then...when I mentioned something about getting out of there and finding her mum, she started crying for her brother, and that’s when It clicked that it must have been him...and not some random person.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” said Ginny tremulously.

“Yeah...it was rather awful, she was inconsolable! And I didn’t know what to do! So we tried finding her brother—”

“Did you find him?” asked Ron.

“Yeah,” said Harry, his heart squeezing painfully at the memory of Draco lying there, cold and vulnerable.

“But that’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Hermione asked, looking uncertain but hopeful.

Harry shook his head, “As I said: he had no time to protect himself and...you know...it was...it was really bad...he was unconscious and crumpled on the ground...and ...and...broken—”

Tears welled up in Ginny’s and Hermione’s eyes and Mrs. Weasley sniffled.

“—it was a real mess if you ask me...first, he wouldn’t wake up, and for a moment there, I thought...I thought he won’t,” Harry’s voice cracked as images of that horrible night, which seemed so far away now, came rushing back. And now that Harry had no adrenalin pumping through him or any sense of urgency, those images seemed far more suffocating.

He felt Sirius squeezing his shoulder lightly. It felt nice, it grounded Harry and he felt just a little better.

“But then he did wake up, right Harry?” asked Hermione, her tone almost pleading.

“Yes, he did. He was a little disoriented, and panicked thinking that something happened to his sister...t-then—” Harry choked, he couldn’t continue. That hollow space in his chest, which he had felt when Draco had left, was pulsating whenever he thought of him, like a dull second heartbeat, but shallower and aching, making him breathless. And whenever Harry pictured Draco upset, or sad, or panicked, or unsafe, or hurt he could feel that void sending cold wisps of ice through his chest, chilling his insides for milliseconds before going back to normal, only to repeat it again with every throb. He clutched his chest, rubbing it absentmindedly, trying to ease the pain—

“Are you alright, Harry?”

Harry started at Sirius’ voice, who was looking at him concernedly, in fact, everyone in the room was looking at him the same way.

“What? Y-yes, I’m fine, I’m fine...its just...I’m fine,” said Harry, distractedly, still rubbing his chest. His hands have become clammy, his face drained of all colour, he didn’t know what was happening to him. He shook his head trying to clear his mind. He was just tired and hungry, yeah, that’s what it was; he thought fiercely.

“Are you sure you want to continue?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,”

Sirius didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push the matter and settled back, ignoring the gawking looks the Weasleys—except Ron—were giving him.

Harry cleared his throat and everyone straightened up, giving him their avid attention. “So...well, I couldn’t leave them there and he was in no condition to even walk and I didn’t know what to do and spells were flying everywhere, I couldn’t think of a way to get us out of there so I shielded them as I thought—” Harry continued the rest of the explanation in a rush as recalling everything was becoming more and more painful with every word, and he just wanted to get it over with.

He told them how he had shielded them, how he had panicked when the Dark Mark had appeared, causing him to just apparate all of them out of there. He told them how he had healed the other two before setting protective wards around the place as the siblings slept, “—we talked a bit here and there to pass time, but then I fell asleep. When I woke up, Sirius and Remus were already there. Then his family sent a port-key for him with his house-elf and he left with his sister...something about his father not returning home. And that’s that, we came here,” he finished.

The Weasleys and Hermione were gaping at him, slack jawed, their eyes wide in disbelief. Remus’ face was shining with pride and Sirius had a small satisfied smirk plastered across his face as he examined his nails lazily. Then all the questions started at once, making it difficult for Harry to decide who said what.

“You can do wand-less magic?”

“You know the Patronus charm?”

“Oh, we have seen his Patronus, its a stag, isn’t it?”

“You apparated out of there with two other people?” asked Fred.

“And broke the anti-apparition wards?” asked George, looking amazed.

“You can do advance healing spells at this age? I’m pants at it.”

“You warded the whole place?”

“He had a house elf? How did he treat them?”

“Bloody hell, Harry!! you are just fourteen.”

“Blimey mate! you should’ve at least waited for the school year to begin before throwing bombs after bombs,” that was definitely Ron.

Harry blinked, a little flustered, his head moving back and forth from one person to another, trying catch up. But before he could even open his mouth to answer a question the next one was fired at him. He wondered how tedious and stressful it would be to explain Sirius’ situation to all of them. He was glad that at least he would have Ron and Hermione to assist him with that.

Finally, Mr. Weasley managed to get his family to quite down and asked, “Harry, can you tell me anything about these children? Their names or anything. If something has happened to their father then the Ministry will have to look into it.”

Harry shook his head, “Apart from their first names and a rough idea about their age, I don’t think I can tell you anything that can help in identifying their father.” He chewed his lower lip, worried about Draco, the blonde seemed really shaken when he got the news about his father. He quickly cut that train of thought as another wave of ice seeped through his chest.

“Anything will do, Harry. The boy’s features, what did he look like?”

He thought of Draco’s soft silver blond hair, his warm expressive grey eyes, his baby pink lips, his creamy delicate skin and his soothing voice. And for the first time that deserted aching void in his heart pulsed happily, filling him with so much warmth that he could feel it to his very fingertips.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, before he could stop himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do leave comments and kudos. Also I am really excited for the next chapter, its kinda intense. Well I hope it is, but I am not the judge here, You are. 
> 
> Good day!


	7. Building Barriers and Breaking Burrow (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE!!!!
> 
> So I just wanted to highlight a few points and clear a few things just to put things into perspective so that the plot doesn't confuse anyone. 
> 
> So we all know that Draco was absent for the first three years, right? But that doesn't stop somethings from happening as other characters act in more or less the same way. Like Snape will still be a massive dick. And Neville will still be nervous and lose control in his first quidditch lesson and forget his remembral. 
> 
> The point is, as most of the characters behave in the same way, Harry's first three years at Hogwarts are cannon compliant, except for the small things that are affected by Draco's absence. 
> 
> Now, Draco's absence in the first few years can affect a lot of things, like Harry's sorting, his induction into the quidditch team, the duelling club in second year, or the way he charged buckbeak in the third year. We know that these things affect the cannon heavily. 
> 
> So, as I said that Harry's first three years are cannon compliant I'd need to fill in those loopholes. And that is what I have done in this chapter. They are small events but they balance the plot and help in sticking to the cannon for the frst three years. 
> 
> Now, I hope you are still reading because I feel it is important to clear it out. A lot of people may have noticed that I have used Theodore Nott as the leader who has crabbe and goyle as his lackeys and pansy as his side chick( no offence my lovely ladies) and you must be wondering that I have placed Nott just simply to balance the plot. But no. As I mentioned in the start, i would explain the actions of such characters through my plot background in the coming chapters. For example, I mentioned in the earlier chapter that Draco was well known among the rich purebloods and Lucius was very much present in Harry's second year, which establishes the fact that Draco is well known by the parkinsons and Notts and Zabinis. But lets not forget that since Draco is not there to lead the Slytherin, someone will try to take that position in the Slytherin house hierarchy. But how it comes down to Nott and just how he managed to get crabbe and Goyle by his side is still a suspense for furthur drama and story line. But for now I have filled in the loopholes for the first three years and small changes it had caused.
> 
> So with this chapter finished, we would be ready to go on the journey of Harry and Draco and how their love shaped the fate of the wizarding world. 
> 
> With that said, HAPPY READINGGGG!!!!!

“Anything will do, Harry. The boy’s features, what did he look like?”

“Beautiful,” Harry breathed before he could stop himself and blushed hard, mortified, when everyone stared at him. Sirius slowly turned his head and raised an eyebrow, while Remus gave him a funny look.

He could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Blond,” he said quickly, hoping that they would ignore his slip, “he was blond and...,” he laughed nervously, “uh...pale and...haha...about my age...” he looked around the room , awkwardly shifting in his seat as he tried to avoid everyone’s eyes, “and grey eyes... Just like...justlikeSirius,” he finished in a rush, his face turning crimson. Oh god. What was wrong with him? He was blushing madly like a little girl describing her first crush. His stomach flipped, his heart fluttering in his chest; the thoughts of ‘first’ and ‘crush’ together in the same sentence, even in thoughts, wasn’t helping his situation at all.

There was an awkward silence in the room, and Harry could see Sirius smirking and whistling to himself as he lazily examined his nails, like a cat who had just caught the fish, and Harry knew he was going to be teased relentlessly for his little slip up.

Hermione was blinking at him, her lips parted, she opened her mouth and closed it again before shaking her head and looking down at her lap, a contemplative expression on her face.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, but it only made things more awkward.

Harry played with the loose fabric on his knees of his ripped jeans, wishing that he could just crawl under the table and never come out again.

His rescue came in the form of Hermione as she squeaked, her palm smacking her forehead, the way she always did when she worked out a fairly obvious puzzle...obvious in her opinion at least.

“What?” asked Harry, hoping to get everyone’s attention away from him.

“Harry, was he from Beauxbatons?”

“The what?”

“Beauxbatons. Beauxbatons Academy of Magic,” she repeated, as if Harry should know what she was talking about.

“Err...” said Harry, stupidly.

“Oh, honestly!” she looked at him exasperated, “Its one of the most prestigious magical schools in France—”

“Hold on!” said Harry abruptly, as a vivid memory of Lyra came to his mind.

_Dwaco says, he watches me fwom school when he is in Fwance_

“His-his sister...she did mention something about him going to school in France,” said Harry.

“Well, that’s it then,” she said brightly.

“what’s it?” he asked, confused, but she ignored him.

“Ron, you remember that girl we met on our way?” she said, rounding on Ron, who jumped back in surprise and spluttered, “Wha-?”

“That girl!” she said, irritably, “the one we met on our way to the woods, remember? The one with long black hair and a bit of an Indian accent.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ron with a dreamy look on his face, “she was really pretty, wasn’t she? And her eyes—”

“Really, Ron?” she huffed, looking annoyed now, “of all the things--you remember this? That she was pretty?”

Harry could already see the beginning of really long argument.

“Well she was!” Ron said defensively, and the dreamy look came back in his eyes, “what was her name...sham...Shambi...Shamy—"

“Shambhavi! Her name was Shambhavi!” Hermione snapped, “And you would have remembered that if only you had bothered to listen to what she was saying instead of staring at her—”

“Give it a rest, will you?! Both of you,” Harry added when Hermione glared at him.

They both crossed their arms and huffed, giving each other dirty looks.

“Now, will one of you care to explain where this Shambhavi girl comes into the scene?” asked Harry.

Ron turned beet red, obviously not knowing the answer, and Hermione threw him one last nasty look before addressing Harry.

“After you left to look for your wand,” she began, “we came across this small group of students. One of them asked something to us in French, and obviously we didn’t understand it. Then this girl—Shambhavi,” she said bitterly, glancing at Ron, “pushed past the crowd and asked if we have seen a blond guy about our age, probably accompanied by a little girl...She looked really worried and was rambling. She said something about...that his mother was looking for him and had come to her asking his whereabouts hoping that he must be with his school mates after she had told him to run off to safety with his sister, but that he wasn’t with them,” she said, now totally in lecture mode, which she always took whenever she explained an elaborated theory.

“It all makes sense! His, Draco's, mother must have told him run away, just like Mr. Weasley told us. But he didn’t go to his school friends, he didn’t reach the woods at all because he got caught up in that blast,” she continued, tapping her chin with her finger in a thoughtful expression. “It will also explain why that little girl didn’t look for her mum but called for her brother. And then their mother must have gone looking for them, but she couldn’t find them because they were miles away with you. She must have thought of looking for him amongst his friends or, you know, his school mates, which must have led to that Shambhavi girl looking for him. And from how frantic and worried Shambhavi looked, we can assume that she knew that boy, or was probably his friend” she finished, nodding to herself, unaware of everyone blinking at her.

Ron and Harry exchanged knowing looks; they were used to these bouts of brilliance from Hermione.

She frowned, “It still doesn’t explain why their mother would sent them away at all though, I mean, Mr. Weasley here had to go to assist the ministry but...” she trailed off, looking irritated for not knowing the answer.

“Maybe she wanted to wait for her husband,” suggested Bill. “I mean, if mum would have been there with us, she would have wanted to wait for dad after sending the younger ones off to safety.

“That lady must have thought that once her husband is back, they could together get their kids and leave. But as Harry said, it didn’t happen, because that boy’s father didn’t return.

“It also explains, why she couldn’t find her children even if the girl—as Harry said—had a child trace on her. I mean, the key password for the trace is only given to one family member to prevent wrong people from getting their hands on small children. I am pretty sure that in this case their father was keyed to the trace. Even our traces were keyed to dad, weren’t they?” he asked looking at Mr. Weasley, who nodded.

“Wait a second, if only one family member is allowed to be keyed to the trace, then what happens if something happens to that person?” asked Harry.

“Well, it shifts to the next closest person responsible for the child. Like ours would have shifted to mum, if something had happened to dad,” Bill replied.

“So, does that mean Draco’s father must be okay if the trace didn’t shift to his mum?” Harry asked, hope bubbling up inside him, maybe Draco’s family would be fine after all.

“Yes,” Bill confirmed, and Harry felt as if a heavy weight has been lifted off his chest.

“Do all magical children have this trace on them?” he asked.

“Yes, all parents who have a vault in Gringotts can get it done by the Goblins when they go to get their children registered as heirs and stuff like that,” Bill confirmed. “Except muggle-borns of course, since muggle parents don’t know about the magical world till their kids turn eleven, and the child trace breaks at that age, anyway.”

“Did all of you had traces on you?” Harry asked, curious, it always surprised him how much he didn’t know about the magical world. When everyone—except Hermione—nodded, Harry wondered if he had it too.

“You had it too, Harry,” said Sirius, as if reading his mind.

“I did?”

“Of course you did.”

“But, what happened to it after...after my parents died... did it break?”

Sirius shook his head. “Didn’t you here him? ‘It shifts to the closest person responsible for the child’, it passed onto me. How else do you think I managed to track you down to private drive last year? The last time I checked, you were there, so I gave it a shot and it worked...I found you.”

“Oh.” But before Harry could ponder over it, Hermione interrupted.

“That still doesn’t explain why Draco’s father wasn’t there with them in the first place, ” she pointed out.

“Maybe he was busy helping the ministry,” Charlie piped up.

“Or maybe he was busy giving the ministry a hard time,” Sirius drawled.

Harry’s stomach dropped, he didn’t like the thought of Draco being the son of a Death eater at all, it made him feel sick. He couldn’t even picture him saying things like ‘mud-blood’ or ‘blood-traitor’ and sneering at Hermione. Draco was so polite and affectionate and open; talking to him had been so easy for Harry, so natural. And Harry had slept cuddled up to him for Merlin’s sake, and Draco had cried himself to sleep in Harry’s arms.

He stared at his hands, that were resting on his lap, as the reminder of Draco’s soft body so close to him sent another wave of warmth through his veins, soothing his insides that had churned horribly at the idea of Draco being someone like Theodor Nott or Pansy Parkinson. His void heart (the name he had given to that empty throbbing feeling in his chest) squeezed, as if offended by the idea of Harry thinking anything negative about Draco.

“Well, maybe Sirius is right, and that’s the reason why their absence wasn’t reported. Because their father was with the death eaters himself,” said Mr. Weasley.

Harry shook his head in denial.

“But he...Draco, I mean... he...he didn’t seem like the kind of a guy who would, you know...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish his thoughts. He looked at Remus, pleading him to deny such a thing. Harry didn’t know why it disturbed him so much, but it did. The thought of Draco being the son of a death eater made him seem even more distant than he already was.

Remus shook his head and Harry’s heart sank.

“Well, he did have a house elf,” said George.

“Which means he must be from an old, filthy rich—” said Fred.

“Pureblood Family,” they finished together.

“Well, he did mention something about living in a ‘Manor House’” Harry mumbled, fiddling with the dirty cuff of his jumper. Come to think of it, Draco knew a lot about the Dark mark and Voldemort, and hadn’t answered when Harry had asked him how he knew it. But then, so did Hermione. knowledge and house elf can’t be the basis of such allegations, it could be a mere coincidence. He shook his head, rubbing his chest to ease the rising pain in his heart again. He’d have to do something about that too, or he’d go crazy.

“How did he treat his house elf?” Hermione inquired.

“Huh?” Harry mumbled, thrown off balance by her odd question.

Ron rolled his eyes, “She’s been going on and on about house elves the whole night, barmy that one.”

“Ron!” she snapped, poking an accusing finger in his chest, “its because of people like you that house elves suffer a fate worse than slaves.”

“Oh, not again,” Bill muttered exasperatedly.

“Well, if you want to know whether he was treating his house elf like dirt, then no,” said Harry, breaking their rising argument, “in fact he was rather polite to her, and forbade her from punishing herself and didn’t even get angry when she unknowingly hit his broken ankle. I am sure Lucius Malfoy would have murdered Dobby if he had done something like that, I mean, we saw how he was in our second year. Draco wasn’t like that in the slightest, and his elf seemed rather fond of him.”

“Good,” said Hermione, nodding to herself, then glowered, “But it still doesn’t mean they have the right to have—”

“Hermione, let it go!” said Ron.

“That reminds me,” said Mr. Weasley loudly, giving Ron and Hermione a warning look, who immediately shut their mouths up and blushed at being reprimanded in front of everyone. “Harry, here’s your wand,” he said, pulling out the familiar piece of holly from his pocket, which Harry took, feeling the comforting warmth of his magic pulsing through it.

“Where did you find it?” asked Harry, looking at his wand with reverence. Oh! How he had missed it.

Mr. Weasley hesitated before answering, “We found it at the crime scene.”

Harry’s head jerked up to look at him, “Crime scene?”

“Yes, Harry,” said Hermione, looking disturbed, “it was used to cast the Dark Mark in the sky.”

Harry recoiled, “You’re joking!”

Hermione shook her head miserably and looked down at her lap, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

“It was one of reasons why we wanted to keep your absence a secret,” said Mr. Weasley, “The ministry would have immediately concluded that you cast the Dark Mark and ran away to elude the consequences.”

“But...but I didn’t,” Harry spluttered, scandalised, staring at Mr. Weasley as if he had grown two heads, “I...I wouldn’t...you know I wouldn’t...Why would I...after everything—”

“Of course we know that,” said Mr. Weasley, cutting off Harry’s rambling, “none of us here suspect you of any wrong doings, Harry, I was just telling you what happened,” he reassured.

“B-but...how...” Harry couldn’t even string a sentence, he was struck dumb by what they have just told him. The idea of his wand-HIS WAND-being used to cast the Dark Mark was just so bizarre. He couldn’t blame Hermione for looking so disturbed, he himself felt ill, as if someone has tainted his wand and his magic. He felt Sirius squeezing his shoulder before patting it gently, and found it easier to speak again. “How is that even possible? What happened exactly?” Harry asked to no one in particular.

It was Hermione who answered in a very soft voice, as if explaining something really serious to a small child who would get upset by the truth. She chose her words carefully and told him about how they had seen Winky (Mr. Crouch’s elf) in the woods when they reached a clearing, how the elf was behaving oddly and how they heard someone casting the Dark mark but couldn’t see the man’s face. How they barely managed to duck in time when a dozen ministry men apparated into the clearing and tried to stun the perpetrator. Then she told him about how Winky was found with Harry’s wand at the exact same spot where the culprit had been, and how Winky was sacked. By the end of the story, Hermione looked livid, her voice heated and her face was red with anger, “—I mean, she was scared! And Mr. Crouch was so harsh to her for trying to run away and save her life. The way she was crying and begging at his feet—it was pathetic!” she finished as Harry tried to digest this information. Just how bizarre could the day turn into, he had already had had enough and he just wanted it to be over. He rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his palm, but dropped his hands when Remus gave him a concerned look.

“Nothing new there,” said Sirius bitterly when Hermione was done with her rant, “its not the first time when Crouch has cut his ties with someone when they were accused of dark magic, irrespective of whether they were truly guilty or not.”

“My son works for him and he talks very highly of Mr. Crouch,” said Mrs. Weasley, pompously, “And I believe he is correct in his assessment.”

“Best of luck to him, then,” Sirius drawled, which wasn’t taken well by Mrs. Weasley. She crossed her arms over her chest and her eyes narrowed as she threw daggers at Sirius for insulting her precious Percy’s Boss.

“Now listen here, Sirius Black,” she snarled, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You have no reason to demean a highly respected wizard such as Mr. Crouch—”

Sirius snorted derisively, making Mrs. Weasley go purple in the face, “Really? I thought sending me to Azkaban without even a trial was a good enough reason,” he said sarcastically.

“What?” said Harry.

“You’re kidding!” exclaimed Ron.

“No way!” said Hermione as her hand clamped on her open mouth.

“Yeah,” said Sirius, shrugging, but both Harry and Remus caught on the forced nonchalance in his voice. “But I think I got off easy considering many people didn’t even live to see Azkaban. Crouch had given free reign to the Aurors once the war was over, and they were killing people left and right under the pretence of rounding up death eaters. But all it was, was an out let for their own anger and resentment for the losses they may, or may not, have suffered,” he said, grimacing.

“But how can Mr. Crouch do that, isn’t he in the department of International Magical cooperation?” asked Harry.

“Oh, he wasn’t always there, was he?,” said Sirius rhetorically, “Crouch was the head of DMLE in my time, steadily climbing the ladder to become the most popular Minister of Magic of the century—taking full advantage of the circumstances surrounding the chaos after the end of the first war. He allowed Aurors to torture for information about Voldemort’s supporters, gave them legal authority to kill them at sight if it came down to it. A lot of them weren’t even confirmed supporters, they were merely suspects. But people didn’t care—they were happy that the culprits were getting what they deserved, and if a few innocents died, then that’s just unfortunate. People were so enraged and wounded that Crouch’s draconian policies gathered a lot of support from the masses.

“Crouch is a great wizard, I agree, extremely talented and skilled. But even if he loathed dark arts and Death eaters, he had no right to do what he did. He was harsh and cruel and ruthless—fighting hatred with hatred, and making things worse. He was just too satisfied to be the one sending me—the supposed betrayer—to Azkaban to bother with a proper investigation and trial,” said Sirius, grimacing in disgust, “But then again, what else can you expect from someone who sentenced their only son to Azkaban, without batting an eyelash.”

“Mr. Crouch was only trying to do justice by not bending the rules for his own son!” said Mrs. Weasley, pushing her nose in the air.

Sirius was unfazed. “Some justice it was,” he drawled coolly, “sending a child barely of age to Azkaban. The boy was begging for his mother by the next day! Then went quite. They all do,” he said softly. “He died after a year and Crouch didn’t even come to retrieve his body; the Dementors buried him themselves. Mrs. Crouch couldn’t take the shock and followed soon. One would wonder how such a charming boy turned out like that.” He said raising an eyebrow, “but his father was too busy becoming the minister to actually know the answer, wasn’t he?”

“Sirius, I think that’s enough—” Remus started, noticing the stricken and horrified faces of the children, but was cut off by Mrs. Weasley.

“Mr. Crouch was just being fair!” she shouted, looking at Sirius disdainfully.

“His fairness only went as far as giving his son a trial,” Sirius retorted heatedly, losing his cool facade now. “I don’t know if the boy was actually guilty or not, because apparently he didn’t get a chance to present his case, did he? The trial was only a way for Crouch to cut his ties with his son publically and show the world just how justified he was and to what lengths he could go to maintain his so called twisted notion of justice. It was simply a move to protect his position as the next Minster of Magic, that’s it!”

“Crouch was right in doing what he did because their was no question of the boy’s innocence seeing as the kind of people he was caught with,” said Mrs. Weasley, her lips curling in distaste, “And if you have forgotten, then I have no problem in reminding you that he was caught red handed with your very own dear cousin and her in laws--!”

“Molly, no--!”started Mr. Weasley, looking alarmed.

“—Bellatrix Lestrange!!” she finished loudly.

Sirius blanched as if slapped right across the face. He paled considerably and His hand, which had been caressing Harry’s shoulder, froze and turned into fists, his knuckles going white.

Everyone gasped. Mr. Weasley looked at his wife with wide eyed alarm; Bill and Charlie looked pale, Ron and the twins looked as confused as Harry felt; and Hermione was staring at Sirius like she had seen a ghost, and Harry was sure that she must have read about Bellatrix Lestrange or who so ever this women was.

But what really got Harry worried was Remus tensing up next to him, who was glancing at Sirius anxiously as if he wanted to reach out. Because if Remus was anxious then it must be really bad.

Harry stared at Sirius willing him to look at him or say something, but Sirius was only staring at Mrs. Weasley, who had a sickening triumphant smile on her face which made Harry bristle.

She gave Harry an overly sweet smile when she noticed him looking at her. “Has he told you what they did, Harry?”

“Molly, don’t!” said Mr. Weasley urgently.

“Has he told you that his cousin was caught—”

“Molly, they don’t need—” Mr. Weasley warned.

But Mrs. Weasley was having none of it. If anything, it only prompted her to get her point across.

“Torturing Alice and Frank Longbottom to insanity—!”

“Molly, stop--!”

“—FOR INFORMATION ABOUT YOU!!”

“MOLLY THAT’S ENOUGH!!” commanded Mr. Weasley. He took a deep breath and said, in a low, but stern voice, “You have said enough. They don’t need to hear anymore.”

Mrs. Weasley glared at him, her arms crossed, stubbornly, but relented and settled back, looking miffed at being stopped, but satisfied at finally having the last word.

She smoothed the non-existent wrinkles on her apron and looked at Harry expectantly; In fact everyone in the room was looking at Harry expectantly, holding their breaths, waiting for his reaction.

He looked at Sirius again, who was clutching the arm of the sofa in a death grip, his knuckles white, trembling inconspicuously; it looked like it was taking all of Sirius’ effort to not get sick as he stared hard at the floor.

Harry felt his hackles rising; he knew that family was a sore topic for Sirius, and judging by the satisfied smirk on Mrs. Weasley’s face, she had indented for this very effect. She was happy that she has finally hit the nerve.

Harry’s jaw clenched as he tried to suppress his bubbling anger at Mrs. Weasley. He felt furious at the way she was talking to Sirius: intending to hurt him, make him look bad in Harry’s eyes, in everyone’s eyes.

But more than anything, Harry felt betrayed because he had never expected Mrs. Weasley to deliberately be so snide, hurtful, and degrading towards anyone. He didn’t know why she was acting like this, but it was so _wrong_ and it made him feel ashamed of himself for ever considering her as a motherly figure, because from what it looked like, she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for how badly her words had affected Sirius. He knew she was controlling and not the one with a cool head, but this was downright cruel. He wouldn’t have felt so outraged if she had unknowingly hurt Sirius, but it seemed like she was ready to do anything to malign Sirius in Harry’s eyes. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with a reason for what had caused this sudden change.

And all of this for what? Because Sirius said that someone deserved a fair trial? Because Sirius felt that it was wrong to kill and torture in the name of peace and justice? All of this, because Sirius had made an off handed comment about how he despised Mr. Crouch for his harsh and immoral actions? All of this because Percy was brilliant, and his words were irrefutable in Mrs. Weasley’s eyes because he did things the way she wanted?

Mrs. Weasley’s smile widened when she caught the revulsion in his eyes, thinking that its directed towards Sirius, and he felt bile rising up his throat at the glint in her.

He swallowed and took a deep breath, collecting every ounce of his self control he said coldly, “As a matter of fact Mrs. Weasley, Sirius has already told me everything,” which wiped the smile from her face and Harry felt a savage satisfaction when the twinkle in her eyes went out like a light. “And he has never lied to me about anything,” which was true. Yes, Sirius may have always been reluctant in divulging information about his childhood and family, but he had never kept facts and truth from him. He had always been honest about his family’s allegiances and crimes even if he never indulged Harry into his private experience with them, and Harry respected that, thank you very much.

Everyone stared at Harry, their jaws slack at his sudden cold demeanour, but Harry only looked at Sirius who was still not meeting his eyes.

“Harry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley simpered in a voice she thought was dripping with motherly concern, “you shouldn’t be so quick in judging people, your pure heart is far too trusting, my boy.”

Harry had to close his eyes to stop himself from lashing out as he felt his anger building inside him. He took a deep breath trying to remind himself that this was Mrs. Weasley, his best friend’s mother and probably the only motherly figure in his life so far and that he should not disrespect her, but God, it was getting difficult.

He opened his eyes and flashed Mrs. Weasley a winning smile, which was anything but. “You are quite correct,” he said, his voice oddly icy even if he tried to make it sound casual, “I shouldn’t have been so quick in judging people, since I have just realised how wrong I can be sometimes. Thank you Mrs. Weasley, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Mrs. Weasley spluttered and frowned, but before anyone else could catch on the double insinuation of his words Fred butted in, “You still haven’t told us how you apparated out of there, Harry.”

“Yeah that was really wicked,” added George, “Charlie couldn’t do that even when he was applying for his license.”

“Oi!” said Charlie indignantly, “it was only because the instructor gave me the wrong co-ordinates.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Dragon boy,” said Fred sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes in mock innocence.

Harry who had been busy trying to catch Sirius eyes, and failing, was taken aback by the sudden change of topic. He looked between the twins and Charlie, confused. Hermione widened her eyes meaningfully and jerked her head towards the bickering siblings, urging his to go along and break the tension.

“Er,” said Harry, feeling very stupid because he really didn’t have a clue as to how he had apparated earlier. “I don’t know how I did it...it just...sort of... happened. I just wanted to get out of there and, I don’t know, I just grabbed them and just hoped for the best and the next thing I knew we were in that forest,” he said, rolling his shoulder, which was still aching from the impact of his clumsy landing. He rubbed the back of his neck feeling self conscious when everyone stared at him, open mouthed.

“It just happened,” repeated Bill, faintly, “I don’t know about others but, I have never heard of any fourteen year old kid managing to accidently apparate with two other people through anti apparition wards and coming out in one piece!” he said, incredulous, voice rising at the end in disbelief.

Harry shrugged, “It can’t be that big of a deal. I mean, its happened before when I was trying to escape my...” Harry trailed off when everyone stared at him. It really couldn’t be that rare if he could do it as a kid. He remembered that one time when he had accidently apparated to the rooftop of his muggle school while trying to run away from his cousin and his gang.

He twisted the cuff of his sleeves nervously, trying not to squirm under the heavy gaze of all those present.

“And you said you can do wandless magic?” asked Hermione, her eyes narrowed.

Harry blushed, “I try,” he said evasively. He was very much regretting telling them everything. He was really feeling a bit uncomfortable from all the awed expressions. If this is how people would react then he should probably keep his abilities hidden.

“You...try,” Hermione said slowly, as if it was taking a lot of effort on her part to not just faint. And it would have been comical for Harry if he wasn’t feeling so embarrassed.

“And the Patronus charm?” asked Mr. Weasley, looking at Harry intently.

“Oh, that was Remus. He taught me last year,” said Harry, waving his hand dismissively, and trying to sound casual even though the memory of his parents dying still made the hair on the back on his neck stand. “What with the whole Dementors appearing on the pitch making us lose Quidditch matches.”

“Yeap,” said Fred.

“Nasty fall there, mate,” said George, remembering how Harry had plummeted from fifty feet above the ground after succumbing to Dementors in a Quidditch match.

Harry shivered, “lets not talk about it,” he said, and for once the twins listened.

“And what about the healing charms?” asked Hermione pointedly, coming back to herself, “And the shield charm, or the wards? None of that are taught to us, not yet, and you can’t do magic outside Hogwarts, so you couldn’t have learned it during the summers,” she asked, trying to keep the conversation on safe grounds as Mrs. Weasley still looked ready to explode.

“Er...actually, I did learn them during the summers,” Harry said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, now looking really interested, “How?”

“They taught me,” said Harry, gesturing towards Sirius and Remus, and immediately regretted it.

“You did what?” Mrs. Weasley bellowed, standing up.

Sirius shrugged, unperturbed, “Taught him.”

“You can’t do that! Not without any supervision!” Mrs. Weasley thundered, looking thoroughly agitated with Sirius’s attitude.

“Seeing that it saved three lives today, I don’t think we did anything wrong,” said Sirius, raising an elegant eyebrow.

“You don’t get to decide what’s wrong and what’s right for him!” she shouted, pointing at Harry.

“You don’t get to decide either, he can decide for himself,” said Sirius, his voice laced with annoyance.

“No, he can’t!” she retorted, not noticing Harry’s scandalised look, “He is just a child, not your friend to be a part of your risky exploits!”

  
“I know who he is, thanks,” said Sirius, his voice taking a cutting edge.

“And what’s wrong with that, anyway?” asked Harry, because he really didn’t mind Sirius treating him like a friend, it actually put him at ease and made it easier for him to express his thoughts.

Mrs. Weasley spluttered, “It could be dangerous!”

“I’m there,” said Sirius, his voice so cold that it could freeze fire; he hated it when people implied that he can’t look after his godson.

“Well, even more dangerous seeing as how reckless you are, and you don’t have any experience!” she spat.

“Excuse me? I was an Auror and Remus just taught last year.”

“And he was the best,” Fred quipped airily, and George nodded along with Ron and Hermione, but they stopped when Mrs. Weasley rounded on them.

“You stay out of this!” she said loudly before turning back to Sirius. “Well, an Auror who was sent to jail! I must say: not a very good example for Harry, are you?” she said, her lip curling.

“An Auror who was wrongfully imprisoned by your precious Mr. Crouch!” said Sirius, standing up, finally losing his temper which he had been controlling for Harry’s sake.

“There was so much evidence against you!” she shouted

“Evidence that wasn’t even voted upon or presented in the court!” Sirius shouted back.

“Well, there wasn’t much evidence supporting you!” she said stubbornly, desperately looking for something to hold over Sirius.

Sirius laughed harshly, “Yes, because the real evidence was hiding in your house for 12 years.”

Silence met his words.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Mrs. Weasley bellowed. “We don’t have anything illegal in our house!”

“Oh yeah? Ask your son, why don’t you?”

“What are you talking about, you crazy man!?”

“Peter Pettigrew!” Sirius deadpanned, looking Mrs. Weasley straight in the eyes.

A beat silence. Then:

“He is dead!” Mrs. Weasley sneered, “You made sure of that.”

“Mum—” Ron tried.

“I said, stay out of this!” she said shrilly, her eyes not leaving Sirius.

“No! Peter pettigrew is alive,” said Sirius, “The filthy scum who betrayed all of us is alive! He was the real spy, the real secret keeper for the Potter’s. The slimy traitor is alive and has been hiding in your house for the last 12 years since he framed his own death after killing 12 muggles in that blast 12 years ago!”

“Mrs. Weasley—” Hermione tried again, but Mrs. Weasley ignored her.

“You have lost your mind, Black!”

“And you have lost your rat!”

Mrs. Weasley blinked, thrown off guard by the odd revelation. “What do you mean?”

Sirius nodded, “Yes, your son’s rat,” he pointed towards Ron, who nodded weakly when everyone turned to him. “Has been in the family for 12 years, which is unusual for a normal rat; doesn’t have a toe—much like the finger which was presumed to be what’s left of Peter’s body by the Ministry. Ring any bells?”

Everyone was quite for a long time, staring from Sirius, to Ron, to Remus, to Harry, then back at Sirius.

“So you are saying...” Mr. Weasley started slowly.

Remus nodded, “Yes. Peter was an unregistered animagus, a rat to be precise.” Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to inquire but Remus waved his hand, “James and Sirius were—are, too. But that’s not important,” he added when all the Weasley children sent awed looks at Sirius. “What I’m saying is: Potters made Peter their Secret Keeper because Sirius was an obvious choice; it was a bluff, and everyone fell for it, we all thought it was Sirius. But what we didn’t know was that, Peter, the snivelling pathetic bastard was a spy who practically sold our friends to Voldemort.”  
The Weasleys flinched at the name, and Hermione shivered at the hard icy edge in Remus’s voice—he sounded so sinister.

There was a long pause, a thick heavy silence had fallen in the room.

Mrs. Weasley was spluttering in disbelief and Mr. Weasley still looked a bit uncertain, the Weasley children looked a mixture of confusion (Bill and Charlie), excitement (Fred and George), scared (Ginny), and torn (Ron).

“We have seen him,” it was Hermione who dared to speak, “Peter Pettigrew. We have seen him.” They gaped at her, making her shrink. She was really uncomfortable about interrupting adults and facing their wrath, but she raised her chin defiantly and said in a more firm voice, “We have seen him... Ron, Harry and me—changing from a rat to human, and back. He even confessed about...” she trailed off as the silence stretched on, then looked helplessly at Harry.

“Dumbledore knows,” Harry said.

“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked, wide eyed.

“He knows about Sirius,” he repeated, hoping to convince everyone. The last thing he needed right now was for Sirius to get arrested, due to the Weasleys no less. “He even helped us to sneak Sirius out of the castle when he was caught by Snape.”

Mr. Weasley sighed, “Well, if professor Dumbledore believes in him, and Harry seems convinced of his innocence, then I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”

“Arthur!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, “Don’t tell me you believe this nonsense.”

“But Molly—”

“No! They are just children, they don’t know what they are saying, they don’t know when they are being manipulated.”

“But, we aren’t being manipulated,” Harry said, panicing, “Sirius is innocent, he was framed. You have to believe us, Mrs. Weasley, please. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a pitying look, before glaring at Sirius. “Well, a good god father and a good Auror should have known better. It just proves we can’t trust his judgement. Harry isn’t safe with him.”

Harry stared.

Remus stiffened.

“You didn’t just say that,” Sirius said in a low deadly voice. His hands were balled into fists and he was trembling with controlled fury.

Mrs. Weasley snorted mockingly, “Well, its the truth. So, you can’t teach Harry whatever you want. And Lupin here, was sacked.”

“He resigned!” Sirius countered, “he resigned because he thought parents won’t like a werewolf teaching their children!”

“Well, they won’t.” Mrs. Weasley said, condescendingly.

Remus inhaled sharply.

Harry bristled. He wasn’t here to watch Remus getting insulted like that.

Sirius’s jaw clenched. “Exactly,” he hissed, “Remus did it to please bigoted parents like you.”

Mrs. Weasley turned beet red at the accusation, looking disconcerted. She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to say something cutting, but Sirius turned away and flopped onto the sofa, taking his original position, with his arm stretched at the back of the couch around Harry’s shoulder, and head thrown back, gazing at the chipped ceiling. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing. He would have looked calm if not for the muscles working in his jaw.

Mrs. Weasley sniffed disdainfully.

“Molly,” Mr. Weasley said imploringly, breaking the tense silence, “I think we should all calm down, dear. As long as Harry is safe I don’t think it matters that he had help learning a few new things this summer, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Weasley huffed but didn’t protest any further and went back to the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest she continued to glower at Sirius, who was still staring at the ceiling.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat awkwardly, “So Harry, now that we know Sirius is innocent...would you like to say anything to...er...clarify the matters?”

Harry sighed and looked at Hermione, he really didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially after how things have turned out. He was scared that he would mess things further and lose his friends, or worse, say something that would make Mrs. Weasley flip, and he was sure that Sirius was steadily losing his temper, and Harry was rather surprised that he had managed to hold onto it for so long.

Hermione, bless her, immediately latched onto explaining everything from the start. She started with the time when they had overheard their professors in three broomsticks, talking about James and Sirius’s friendship and how Sirius was Harry’s Godfather and how he had—supposedly—betrayed the Potters. She told them about Sirius’s attempt to get into the Gryffindor common room during Halloween to get his hands on Peter. Thankfully, she didn’t mention Sirius’s appearance on the day of that Quidditch match in which Harry had fallen; Harry didn’t want Mrs. Weasley to have another reason to lash out on Sirius. Then Hermione went onto explaining about Theodore Nott.

Theodore Nott, Harry recalled, a slimy Slytherin pureblood who was in their year, was an obnoxious cruel bully. He had pushed Justin Finch Fletchley into the Black lake on their first boat ride to Hogwarts, which had prompted Ron to tell Harry all about how bad and dark Slytherin wizards were. Then he had tried to break Neville’s remembral by throwing it across the Quidditch pitch in their first flying lesson, leading to Harry’s admission into the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a seeker. After that, the bastard, along with his lackeys, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, had made it his personal mission to bully everyone he could, before declaring himself Harry’s Slytherin counterpart and arch enemy. Harry had been bothered by it for a while, but after a few weeks he had realised that Nott was all bark and no bite. The idiot had no skill or talent what so ever. His pathetic attempts to rival Harry had been so ridiculous that it had soon become a joke among the Gryffindors. Nott still insulted Harry and his friends all the time, and creates nuisance every chance he gets, but that’s all it was, nuisance. He couldn’t even stand up to Harry in the duelling club in their second year, and had fallen on his arse in the first five seconds of the duel. If it hadn’t been for Snape’s suggestion of conjuring snake in the duel (which had lead to the whole parseltounge issue), then Nott would have ended up being a laughing stock for the whole school. Harry mostly ignored the idiot and his stupid attempts to rile him up (which were laughable), but Nott had targeted Hagrid in their last year at Hogwarts. He had tried to convince all the Slytherins to write to their influential parents and get Hagrid sacked. When that didn’t work, he pushed a Hufflepuff in front of a Hippogriff leading to an accident. Buckbeak, the Hippogriff, was tried, but had managed to escape in the last minute. There were rumours that Buckbeak won the trial because Lucius Malfoy (who had a tight hold on many members of the wizengamot) didn’t show up for the trial, leading to a considerable lack of votes against Buckbeak. Harry had found it suspicious; Lucius Malfoy seemed like the kind of person who would support Nott Sr. But that, apparently, hadn’t been the case. Harry had been intrigued by it for a while, before brushing it off as some pureblood Ministry politics. He didn’t care as long as it played in their favour and got Buckbeak off the hook.

It had actually been the evening of Buckbeak’s trail, after their last exam, when Sirius had shown up. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been celebrating Buckbeak’s freedom with Hagrid when Hermione had discovered Ron’s rat (which they had presumed dead and eaten by Hermione’s cat). It had jumped and scurried out of the hut, closely followed by the three friends. Harry had finally managed to grab scabbers when Sirius had appeared in his animagus form; plunging at him, the grim had bitten his wrist so hard that his bones had snapped (although now Harry knew that Sirius was trying to catch wormtail). Harry’s left wrist still ached sometimes even after months, Madam Pomfrey had told him that it would never be the same. Although Harry was glad that it had been his left hand, and not his wand hand, he was still scared that it would affect his Quidditch performance, he hoped not.

Then, Harry had lost his grip on scabbers, who ran straight into the whooping willow, followed by the large black dog, followed by the three friends. It was in the shrieking shack where they had found the whole truth about Sirius’s innocence. But Snape’s arrival had ruined everything, and when Remus had turned into a werewolf, scabbers had escaped, leaving padfoot to protect them from Moony. Next thing Harry knew was that he was being attacked by hundreds of Dementors along with Sirius, and barely managed to escape the kiss due to the appearance of the mysterious patronus, which now he knew was his own.

He had woken up in the hospital wing only to realize that Sirius had been caught and Snape was getting an order of Merlin for his so called brave effort in catching Sirius. Later, Dumbledore had arrived and told them about the tower where Sirius had been kept. Using Hermione’s time turner they had nicked Buckbeak from Hagrid’s paddock. Then Harry saved himself and Sirius from the Dementors by casting his Patronus by the lake. When the right time had arrived, they had flown to the tower on Buckbeak and rescued Sirius.

Harry didn’t know where Sirius was staying these days, but he knew that Buckbeak had been transported back to Hagrid, who had been crying his eyes out at the loss of the Hippogriff.

Harry was just contemplating what made him hate Snape more: his attempts to humiliate Remus by revealing his special condition; or his disregard for justice and greed for credit when he had so ruthlessly tried to hand over Sirius to the ministry for an order of merlin, when Fred’s excited squeak brought him back to reality.

“Harry, you insolent little—Why didn’t tell us?”

Harry blinked, confused. He had totally lost track of what Hermione was saying. But from the annoyed look she was giving the twins it was obvious that they have interrupted her.

“Tell you what?” Harry asked, totally befuddled.

“Now, now Haarykins, don’t play dumb,” George chided. “We know they are gods of mischief, but its really bad of you to keep them all to yourself.”

“What are you talking—” Harry began.

“We spend so many hours trying to find out who they were, when we had the answer right in front of us!” Fred exclaimed.

“What the hell do you even—” Harry said again, only to be cut off, again.

“We were going through year books after year books trying to decode their names, while this little shit had been sleeping on the truth. Not fair, Harry. Not fair at all,” George tsked.

“What are you—”

“You know Freddi, we should have guessed it when Professor Lupin threatened to hex our freckles into dancing like ants when we tried to prank him last year and got caught. I mean, he was the only one we couldn’t prank all year, and not for the lack of trying, I must concede.”

“Will you at least tell me—” Harry tried again, but Fred cut him off.

“And I could swear Snape’s greasy hair that Moony used that same freckle insult on us once.”

“Ahh...” said Harry, finally catching up. Hermione must have reached the part where Remus reveals that he was one of the maker of the Marauder’s Map. Harry grinned sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to give his most innocent puppy look to the twins. It didn’t work.

“Yes, ahh,” chorused the twins in unison, pointing accusing fingers at Harry.

“You never told us that your father was Prongs. The one and only legendry Prongs.” Said Fred, feigning fake tears.

“Or that you had Moony, aka the master of most creative insults, and Padfoot, aka the queen of sass as your God parents.” Added George.

“No wonder the boy is always in trouble. Can you believe it George—son and god son of the Marauders. Oh my god!!”

“We have finally met our idols!”

“Our role model,”

“The merlin of our lives.”

“The secrets of out hides.”

Suddenly Fred and George stopped and turned awed eyes at Sirius and Remus, who were looking amused and rather pleased with themselves, Harry was happy to see a genuine smile on Sirius’s face. Fred and George looked ready to leap to their feet and worship them right there and then.

“Will you teach us?”

“Give us some tips?”

“How did you make it anyway?”

“And how did you crack all the passwords?”

“Whose idea was it to add insults, though?”

“Yes, that was one of our favourite parts, only second to the Snape jokes.”

“Can you tell us how you acquired such an extra ordinary knowledge in profanities Professor Lupin?”

“And the secret to all those hilarious puns by Pad foot?”

“And will you--?”

“Enough!” Mrs. Weasley bellowed, angrily, “Enough, both of you!”

“But mum—”

“No! You two won’t be learning anything from them. Their little creation has already done enough damage, I don’t want you to waste anymore time on playing petty stupid tricks anymore! Do you hear me?” Fred and George looked defiantly at Mrs. Weasley. “Do you hear me? Fred? George?” They just crossed their arms stubbornly. Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes, “Fine! Then I think its time to change the living arrangements...”

There eyes widened in alarm, then narrowed, but they finally uncrossed their arms, and relented, huffing, “Fine!” said Fred, looking pissed.

“We won’t learn anything from them,” added George, before looking away and glaring at the walls, a scowl on his face, as if it has offended him.

Mrs. Weasley nodded to herself, looking satisfied, but she still continued to send suspicious looks at the twins and scathing looks at Sirius and Remus, all the while muttering under her breath. Harry caught the words ‘irresponsible’, ‘bad influence’ and ‘failures’. He wasn’t sure whom these words were directed to, but chose to ignore it for the sake of his sanity and his friend, because god forbid, he was so roiled by Mrs. Weasley’s spiteful words that it was only thanks to his exhaustion that he hasn’t said anything too cutting yet, and he wanted it to stay that way, he was in no mood to lose his friends by insulting or being disrespectful to their parents. Things between Ron and him were already a bit strained and he didn’t fancy giving Ron anymore reason to be pissed off at him.

As Hermione went back to explaining the events from where she had left when the twins had interrupted her, Harry leaned his head back lazily on Sirius’s arm, which was resting on the back of the sofa. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily. Soon, he felt Sirius’s fingers brushing his hair in that relaxing manner which always made him feel calm and content. Harry wondered if he could just fall asleep for a bit—

“You forgot your potion?”

Harry jerked awake at Mrs. Weasley’s angry voice. He blinked and looked around, trying to figure out what had happened now.

Mr. Weasley looked uncomfortable and anxious, Hermione was nervously looking down at her lap, Ginny had her mouth open in a gasp and her eyes were moving back and fourth between Remus and her mother.

Sirius tensed up next to him, and looked at Mrs. Weasley with an unreadable expression on his face, but whatever it was, it didn’t look good. No, it didn’t look good at all, because Sirius looked like the calm before the storm broke through. And Harry finally understood what had happened when he noticed Mrs. Weasley, who was red with rage and looking down at Remus hatefully. If only looks could kill, Remus would have dropped dead on the carpet right now.

But it wasn’t Mrs. Weasley’s glare that alarmed Harry, it was her words and the affect they had on Remus.

Remus had gone deathly pale and was staring down at the floor, his head bowed in shame and regret, his fists clenching and unclenching nervously in his lap as he twisted his fingers. And when Harry finally understood what was happening, his blood ran cold.

“Knowing how dangerous you are, how could you forget your potion?” Mrs. Weasley said accusingly.

Remus shrank into himself, looking so small that it broke Harry’s heart.

Sirius snorted. “Oh, I don’t know, Molly—maybe the fact that his long time dead friend has suddenly turned up alive,” Sirius said sarcastically, glaring daggers at Mrs. Weasley. “Or that his friend who was imprisoned for the last decade could have been innocent, or oh! I don’t know, maybe the fact that at least one—if not both—could harm Harry and his friends if he didn’t reach them on time? Yes, I totally can’t imagine why any of these things would make Remus forget to take his dose of wolfsbane.”

“Its not funny, Black.” Mrs. Weasley snarled. “It was rather irresponsible of him! Endangering children like that-- I am disgusted!” she spat.

“Really? Do tell what else he should have done?” Sirius snarled back.

“Oh! I don’t know, Sirius--maybe take his potion and go to Dumbledore.” She said sweetly, trying to imitate Sirius’s sarcastic tone, but failing pitifully.

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, anger radiating out of him in waves, then his face suddenly relaxed, his shoulder slumped and the worry lines on his forehead smoothed out. He opened his eyes and took another deep breath as he brushed imaginary dirt from his shoulders before giving Mrs. Weasley a radiant smile, but it was so cold that it chilled the very air around him.

“You are right, you know,” he said slowly, his voice filled with forced calm, “that was really irresponsible of him.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

Sirius turned to Remus, who looked like someone has just died. “You should have gone to Dumbledore,” he told Remus, so seriously that they almost missed the sarcasm, “and tried to explain a far fetched theory about how a convicted mass murderer and betrayer could be innocent...and that the real perpetrator—who is believed to be dead—is very much alive and has been staying at Hogwarts for the last fours years, or more, in a dorm full of Children by turning himself into a rat because he became an unregistered animagus at the age of 15.

“And when Dumbledore would have looked at you as if you have lost your marbles, then you should have shown him the evidence in the form a of map, which—even though is always correct—was basically designed by four notorious students for the sole purpose of fooling around, and won’t be a considered solid evidence for such a bizarre story in his eyes.

“And if, by any chance, you did manage to convince him—you should have waited for him to formulate a proper course of action to corner Peter by involving more Hogwarts staff, which--” he emphasised the last word, “--includes people like Snape who would die rather than do anything remotely justified, especially if it means doing something good for Remus, Harry or me. The man would be more interested in accusing Remus of foul play and assisting criminals than doing something productive.

“And if,” Sirius pressed on, now looking at Mrs. Weasley straight in the eye, who looked like she had swallowed something sour, “after all this, they did reach some decision, then I just hope they would have managed to find all of us in one piece and before Peter decided to blast the whole shrieking shack—just like he did with that muggle street—and running away, pinning the blame again on crazy Sirius Black, isn’t it?

“I mean, it would all have been so simple, really. ‘Sirius Black, the crazed mass murderer makes a reappearance... and in his moment of rage he blasted the whole damn thing, taking with himself three innocent teenage lives and a pet rat, whose tooth was found.’” He laughed, humourlessly, “Oh, what a nice headline it would have made, don’t you agree?”

“But that would have been fine,” he waved his hand casually as if talking about the weather, “because Remus took his potion like a good responsible citizen, and went to the headmaster like a good responsible teacher, and secured his job and reputation. And if all this resulted in putting three teenagers in far more severe danger for a longer period of time then its fine, isn’t it, Molly?” he asked.

But Mrs. Weasley seemed at a loss of words as everyone stared at her with a mixture of disappointment and disapproval. She had gone just as pale as Remus, the red angry blotches of embarrassment on her cheeks the only exception. Her jaw had gone slack and her wide eyes were roaming around the room anxiously, as if looking for a way to shut Sirius up.

Harry felt a twinge cruel satisfaction at the way Charlie’s indignant scowl towards her made her wince, and he was sure that Sirius was feeling the same satisfaction.

‘Good’, Harry thought, ‘this is what you get for demeaning Remus.’

“So yeah,” continued Sirius, “highly irresponsible of him to endanger his job, life and reputation only to rush to aid his students who were in mortal peril.”

Mrs. Weasley’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no sound came out. She snapped her mouth shut. And her nostrils flared, “If something would have happened, who was to be blamed?! Whose fault it would be if they were bitten?! Whose fault it would be if they were turned into monsters like him?!”

“Not Remus’s, obviously,” Sirius deadpanned.

Remus stood up. “Sirius, I think we should go,” he said, his voice wavering a little.

Sirius didn’t look away from Mrs. Weasley. “Its not his fault, you know...that he turns into a werewolf every month,” he said quietly, pain creeping into his voice ever so slightly that only Remus and Harry could decipher it. “He can’t control it, and its not easy for him either. And from what I know—and trust me, I know enough--its bloody painful!” he said, his voice rising at the end. “And you can’t blame him for something in which he is as much of a victim as anyone else—”

“Sirius, please,” Remus said desperately, tugging on Sirius’s sleeves, urging him to stand, which he did. “please, lets just go.”

But Sirius--even though now standing with his hand clutched in Remus’s--went on as if he hadn’t heard Remus at all.

“--And he didn’t harm anyone--I was there. I was there to handle the situation. All three of them came out of it unharmed. Remus’s conscience is clear. But it seems like you are intent on ignoring it!”

“Easy for you to say, Black!” Mrs. Weasley spat, her resentment washing away her earlier embarresment, “It wasn’t your child that was in danger!”

“Harry was there!” Sirius shouted.

“Its not the same!” Mrs. Weasley shouted back, “Harry isn’t your son! There’s a difference between a parent and a convicted honorary guardian!”

“Says who?!” Sirius shouted again, his voice coming in level with Mrs. Weasley’s. “Harry is as much as a son to us as Ron is to you! And we would do anything to protect him! Remus would rather kill himself before letting anything happen to him! So,” Sirius’s voice dropped, “don’t you dare. Don’t you ever dare to lecture us on how to take care of him--You have no right, and certainly no say in it. This is our family. And whether we care about each other enough or not is for us to decide, not you.” Sirius held up his hand, halting Mrs. Weasley as she made to speak, and growled “And before you start: Harry agrees with me; he would never blame Remus for something he can ‘t control.”

Mrs. Weasley scoffed, “Harry wouldn’t be agreeing with you right now if he had been attacked by that monster that night!”

Remus sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as everyone cringed.

Sirius closed his eyes, bile rising up his throat at the gut wrenching image that his mind conjured at those brutal words. He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he felt Remus’s hand trembling in his. Massaging his temple, as if to get rid of the horrible picture, he opened his eyes, which had gone a cold steely grey, devoid of any warmth, and his expression darkened, his face screwed up in utter loathing and disgust. His jaw clenched as he tried to resist giving into the temptation of cursing this wretched women into next life. He was feeling so angry, so out raged, that he just wanted to strike, to hurt, to ruin everything around him into bits for daring to hurt Remus like that, for tormenting him like that, and for using Harry as a means to win a bloody argument. He was downright repulsed by what he had just heard.  
  
And he would have acted on his thoughts, given into the urge to destroy, if not for the pained, hurt, and desperate plea that came from Remus in a quavering voice, “Please, Siri. Please, stop it. Lets just go, please.”

Sirius’s heart broke at the anguish in his lover’s eyes. Remus had gone paler than usual, and looked like he was fighting back tears. He looked sick, and revolted, and sad, and just so dejected and ashamed. Ashamed of something that wasn’t his fault. Ashamed of something that was hurting him more than it was hurting others. And for the first time in years Sirius was bitterly reminded of the gravity of Remus’s condition; The kind of hatred it invoked towards this beautiful man, whom people choose to hate whenever they listen to the horrid truth behind his scars. Sirius had accepted Remus’s Lycanthropy so easily along with James, lily and all those pure souls that were their friends when the world was a better place, a happier place, that he had almost forgotten that those pure souls have left. That their friends weren’t here anymore to support Remus. That James wasn’t here to hex anyone who would dare to call Remus names. That Lily wasn’t here to remind Remus that he was beautiful and loving and pure and that its ok, that it isn’t his fault. The realisation had Sirius staggering on his own feet, making it almost difficult to breath through the crushing feeling of loss and helplessness.

“I do.”

Sirius whirled around at Harry’s soft voice to stare at him, shocked.

“What?” Mrs. Weasley hissed, not sure if she wanted to know what Harry meant by those two words.

Harry was still sitting on the couch, his head bowed, making it difficult to read his face. He was tugging at his jumper sleeves, making them cover his hands, leaving only his finger tips to peek out of the cuffs. It was an anxious habit he had picked up from Remus whenever he felt raw and vulnerable.

When the prolonged silence became too heavy to bear, Harry shook his head and looked up. His jaw was set in a firm line, eyes determined, and this time when he spoke, his voice was stronger and steadier, betraying the raw emotions that were swirling in his startling green eyes, “I said, I do agree with Sirius.”

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes widened as she caught onto what Harry was saying. And Remus gaped at him with a mixture of awe and sorrow, it was as if he was looking at Harry for the first time in his life.

But Harry just glared at Mrs. Weasley feeling the dam breaking. Anger creeping up to him at her words, making his skin crawl. He had believed in this women, respected her and cared for her wholeheartedly, believed in her, but now, now he felt so betrayed that it made him choke on his own breath. He couldn’t believe that just yesterday he thought that this women was loving and caring and compassionate and motherly, it all seemed like a huge lie, now. Like some sick cruel joke, an ugly facade, because no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t find that affection he had believed to be there in Mrs. Wealsey’s eyes anymore. And suddenly a horrifying thought occurred to him, and his stomach dropped. Because the more he looked into it, the more obvious it became that it wasn’t just a thought but the truth. The crushing realisation as to why Mrs. Weasley was behaving like this. And it was so obvious now, that he had to wonder how he had been so naive to never notice it before.

His distress must have shown on his face because Sirius was looking at him with concern, his hand hovering over Harry’s small shoulder, as if debating what to do to make Harry feel better.

And it was that pure honest care in those grey eyes that prevented Harry from breaking down there and then; the love in his god father’s eyes was only for him, for Harry, and not for some stupid saviour who was famous for not Dying, but just for Harry, his pup, his godson, his only family.

And finally, finally Harry felt anger rising up in him in thunderous waves, washing away the feeling of hurt and betrayal, pushing it to the back of his mind for now. Because what he had just realized was enough to hurt him, yes, but he would cry later, after he has vented out his anger on the right person.

It wasn’t something new, people always did this to him, Mrs. Wealsey wasn’t a first and certainly won’t be the last. But he hadn’t expected her to do it, damn it. He had trusted her, and would have gone on and on with that naive happy innocent believe in his heart for years if Mrs. Weasley hadn’t shown her true colours today.

“I do agree with Sirius,” he repeated, “I would never blame Remus for something which is out of his hands. Should he have been more careful? Yes. Was it his fault that he lost control? Yes. But that doesn’t mean you can malign him all you want. People make mistakes everyday, some just have far worse consequences, but it was still a mistake, and they were dire circumstances. All he saw was that his students were out of school with a potential mass murderer and that his world was suddenly turning upside down because a dead person who happened to be his friend has suddenly turned up alive for fucks sake! Its not like he threw his wolfs bane because it tasted bad, or he deliberately tried to harm us. And we are fine. And even if--god forbid-- but even if something had happened that night then I still wouldn’t have blamed Remus for it! And that won’t change even if it was me who had been attacked!”

“Harry!” Remus said in a strangled voice, looking alarmed. But Harry ignored him.

“Because Sirius is right, Remus would die before letting anything happen to me! He would be far more devastated if his condition became the reason for someone else’s suffering! You think it makes it easy for him? To drain that glass of burning liquid down his throat? Huh? Then let me tell you that it doesn’t! If anything, it makes it even more difficult for him, because his mind is conscious and fighting throughout the transformation. He can feel every single bone breaking—”

“Harry, stop!” Remus croaked out.

“—And all of it could be avoided if only he doesn’t take that wretched concoction, but he does, he still does! Because he has a conscience, unlike you!” he glared at Mrs. Weasley resentfully. “He cares for people around him, truly cares, and doesn’t want them to suffer. And he goes through it every month to keep people around him safe. He saves money every month and spends most of it on that shit, to make sure he is safe for people around him! And this is what he gets? People like you? Who go around and crush him with your hateful words like this! Is this what he gets? If its a yes, then fuck you! Because I would gladly turn into a werewolf—”

“ Harry, stop it--!” Remus cried.

“—if it meant that I would be someone like Remus, who is strong and brave and loving; instead of being a heartless bigoted fool like you! Because people like you are even worse. Because people like you do far more damage with your words than Remus could ever do!

“Remus taught me how to fight my worst fear, he believed in me when I myself didn’t! He’s honest, and he’s kind, and he does not deserve people like you to come up to him and disgrace him like that! So do tell me Mrs. Wealsey, what part of what I just said made you feel like I would ever blame him?! What part of it gave you the impression that I would abandon him when his worst fear becomes a reality?! What part of it made you say that I would stop respecting him and fall as low as you!”

Harry was breathing hard when he finished, his breath coming out in sharp pants, his throat had gone dry and scratchy from all the shouting. Somewhere between his rant he had stood up too, but didn’t remember when, and he could care less. He felt angry tears forming at the back of his eyes, but thankfully they didn’t fall, because he wasn’t about to show Mrs. Weasley that it was hurting him too. No, he won’t give her the satisfaction. Friendship be damned, he won’t let anyone walk away, just like that, after they had humiliated his godfathers.

No one spoke for a while, but Harry could feel everyone’s eyes on him, their gazes boring into him, but he ignored them, and exhaled heavily. Without meeting anyone’s eyes he rubbed his eye sockets with the heels of his palms, feeling knackered. As his hands fell limp by his sides he caught movement from the corner of his eyes and whirled around, just in time to see Remus tugging Sirius incessantly towards the door.

“Where do you think you are going?” Harry asked, far more harshly than he wanted.

Remus looked at him pleadingly, “Harry, please,” he begged. “I don’t think we are welcome in here anymore, it’s better if we just leave.” Then he looked away and tugged Sirius again. “C’mon Sirius, lets go home.”

Sirius groaned, but followed, snatching their wands from above the mantle piece, where Harry had kept them earlier, as he went.

Harry huffed, “No, I meant, where do you think you are going leaving me behind-- I want to come with you.”

Sirius stopped in his tracks and pulled at Remus, making his steps falter on the way out.

“Harry—listen,” said Remus, running his hand through his hair, looking just as exhausted as Harry felt, “you should stay here, with your Friends, school starts in a week, and that was the original plan anyway, so why change it now on our account, yeah?” When Harry just glared at him he added quickly, “We’ll see you soon, eh, pup? C’mon Sirius, move!” he said urgently as he tugged Sirius again, practically dragging him to the door.

Harry sighed, “And what makes you think that I want to stay here? At a place where you are not welcome?” he asked, almost tiredly.

Sirius paused at Harry’s words and pulled Remus to a halt, again.

Remus exhaled through his nose as he closed his eyes, praying to all the deities for some patience. He dragged his hand down his face before turning to look at his pup, “Harry—”

“No.”

“Pup—”

“No,” Harry said, defiantly.

“Har—” but Remus was cut off as Sirius covered his mouth with his palm.

“Sure, pup,” Sirius said brightly, giving him a dazzling smile. Remus glared at him, his voice muffled, as he struggled to get Sirius’s hand off his mouth. “That is if... you are serious about it?” he said uncertainly, tightening his hold on Remus.

Harry rolled his eyes, “No, I am Harry about it,” he deadpanned.

Sirius grinned.

Remus finally managed to break free of Sirius’s grip by elbowing him hard in the ribs.

“Oomffh,” Sirius rubbed his ribs glaring at Remus, but there was no mistaking the lingering smile on his face when Remus huffed in exasperation, making his fringes fly.

Harry shook his head fondly, then said, “Right, I’ll go get my trunk, then.”

That snapped, Mrs. Weasley out of her shock induced haze, “What?” she squeaked. “You can’t just go! No, no, no, no, you can’t!”

Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow, already given up on any chance of saving his relationship with the family, it hurt, but he quashed it for now, “And why, pray tell, I can’t go?”

“B-because...because...because its not safe,” she said, looking flustered.

Sirius sneered, “I think we have already established that we can look after Harry just fine.”

“And I think that taking care doesn’t involve getting locked up in Azkaban for 12 years, because you were too reckless to think straight,” she snapped, hitting a nerve.

Harry’s hands balled into fists, but Sirius put a soothing hand on his shoulder, not rising to the bait for once.

“Good thing that we don’t care about your opinion, then, isn’t it?” Sirius drawled, raising his own shoulder in an elegant shrug.

Mrs. Weasley blanched, before quickly recovering , “You can’t take him,” she stated calmly.

“Try me,” Sirius said smirking.

Mrs. Weasley smirked back, “You can’t take him because Dumbledore won’t allow it. I have strict orders from him to look after Harry as he stays here with me for the rest of his remaining vacations. And taking recent events into consideration, he would find it prudent to keep Harry with reliable people.”

“No offence to the old chap but, as my memory provides, Dumbledore really has no legal say in where Harry stays for his summer, in fact he has no say in Harry’s lifestyle at all outside the school grounds. And, well,” Sirius continued slowly, letting the words hang into the suffocating silence, “I don’t see Dumbledore interfering with what your children do outside of the school premises.”

“Yes but...b-but,” she stammered, beads of sweat falling down her forehead, “But that’s different!” she shrieked, getting desperate now, “This is not just any child, its Harry Potter, he is more valuable!”

And the last shoe dropped. There it was, the actual truth behind Mrs. Weasley’s behaviour: Harry Potter was more ‘Valuable’. That was all the confirmation Harry needed for his theory. Although he had expected it when he had realised it earlier, but getting a confirmation still cut deeper than it should. Harry potter was more valuable, more desirable. The boy was rich and famous and young, and to top it all: he was emotionally vulnerable, and needy for affection, making it so easy for others to manipulate him. Harry bristled at the thought; he felt so used. As if he hadn’t been a child to care for, or befriend, but an investment. A bloody investment. A valuable investment. Be good to him, show him you love him, fuss over him as if you care, but in all honesty it was just pure and utter manipulation. A way to ensure that Harry considered her ‘reliable’, and depended on her more than anyone else. It was only a way to become important to important people; snobbery cocooned under and decorated with sweet words and woollen jumpers. God! How could Harry have missed it, it was all so obvious, now. Mrs. Weasley was doing everything to make sure that he still stayed under her thumb, and apparently, Sirius’s appearance had thwarted her plans. Wow! Such gradual kind coercion into submission that one would almost mistake it for care. Harry felt like giving Mrs. Weasley a slow clap, just for adding the final touch up to her well played theatrical drama. Looking around, he noticed the offended and indignant looks on the faces of all the Weasley sons. Mr. Weasley looked torn and constipated, probably unsure of how to placate his wife. Hermione was frowning at Mrs. Weasley; Harry could almost hear the gears spinning in her head as she tried to make sense of the situation. Ginny, however, looked just as panicked as Mrs. Weasley. Well, that at least answered the question for Harry. He was glad to know that it seemed like only Ginny shared Mrs. Weasley’s sentiment. Valuable indeed.

Harry gave Mrs. Weasley a dirty look, respect be damned, “So I’m a ‘valuable’ commodity now, am I?” he said coldly, wiping the fake smile from Mrs. Weasley’s face, “And you are, what? My owner? Or is it Professor Dumbledore? And so I don’t get to decide where I should be ‘kept’” he emphasised the last word with a snarl, “is that how it is , Mrs. Weasley?”

Mrs. Wealsey spluttered like a fish, “N-no, Harry, dear—I...I...I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I only have your best interest at heart, dear. After all, every child is valuable to a mother,” she gave him a sweet smile, hoping that it looked convincing.

Harry didn’t smile back. “But you are not my mother, and thank fuck for that,” he said bitterly, “because I don’t think I would’ve been happy with someone who treats another child better just because he is—what did you say?— Valuable.” He stressed the word by making quotation marks in the air with is fingers.

“Harry! I told you I didn’t mean it to—”

“Oh, save it for someone who’d believe you, because you are not fooling anyone!” Harry said snidely. “You know, I always wondered why I was treated so nicely, even better than your own children. Why I was never scolded for the same thing for which Ron or Fred or George got an earful. Initially I thought that it was because I was a guest, but then I noticed that Hermione never gets any special treatment: No Weasley jumpers on Christmas or anything, she is treated exactly like Ginny, or even less so. Then why do I get all coddled up and pampered? Then I thought it’s just because you love me and are looking after me, and as long as it’s making me happy I shouldn’t question it, isn’t it?” Harry shook his head and tutted, “If only I knew how naive and callow I was to believe such load of utter bullshit.”

Mrs. Weasley’s nostrils flared, “You ungrateful boy! I just wanted to be considerate about your needs--!”

“Oh, spare me!” Harry shouted, his hackles rising, feeling angrier than ever. “Being considerate, my foot! You aren’t so considerate about Fred and George’s need for family support, are you? You aren’t considerate about their dreams as long as it does not involve higher NEWT’s and a ministry job! You aren’t considerate about Ron’s happiness until it involves his ‘oh so famous’ friend! You aren’t considerate about Charlie’s happiness, because Dragon taming doesn’t pay enough for you, does it? You aren’t considerate about Bill’s needs to be himself and dress the way he wants because that won’t get you a nice daughter in law, will it? No, you aren’t considerate about any of them, except for Percy of course, because he is doing everything the way you want, isn’t it? But you are considerate about me! Because I am rich and famous and gullible. And you are considerate about Ginny because she would land that famous, rich, gullible boy as your son in law, isn’t it ?! Which is something none of your other—”

Harry was cut off mid rant as Mrs. Weasley slapped him right across the face, its sound ringing through his ears, reverberating trough the walls of the room in the deafening silence that followed.

The quite that ensued was so thick with tension that everyone held their breaths, their lips parted in mute gasps and sharp intakes of breaths. Mrs. Weasley clasped her hand over her mouth, horrified at what she has done, her eyes were wide with fear and bubbling panic. Everyone else in the room had, more or less, the same expression of shock on their faces, as if they were stunned and struck dumb to the core and glued to their places with their mouths hanging open.

Unaware of all this, Harry stared at the floor, his head still bowed from when it had been struck. His hands were shaking from the shock of what had just happened. How could things have gone so bad? Just last night he was celebrating with these people and now....he gulped, feeling angry tears welling up in his eyes. Blinking back his tears, he brought a trembling hand to his face. Touching his still stinging cheek with his quivering fingers he wondered if he had hand prints there. Slowly bringing his hand down, he stared at it. There was blood on his fingers, from where Mrs. Weasely’s ring had cut into his cheek. He rubbed his thumb with his forefingers, smearing his blood until it almost vanished, leaving a red patch in its wake. Balling his trembling hands into fists to stop it from shaking, he took a deep shuddering breath. He could feel Sirius’s nails digging into his shoulder, and knew that it was taking every ounce of his God father’s self control to not strangle Mrs. Weasley to death for daring to touch his godson, or maybe it was taking every ounce of Remus’s strength to hold Sirius back. And the thought brought a small smile on Harry’s face, because in that moment he was reminded of the fact that they were worth it. That Harry would gladly fight hundreds of Weasleys and get thousand more such slaps, if it meant that he would still have Sirius and Remus by his side.

Finally, with his breathing and expression under control, Harry straitened up, brushing off the imaginary dirt from his jumper, much like how Sirius does when he is preparing for something daring, Harry pulled out his wand from his pocket. Then he gently slid Sirius’s hand off his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. Sirius squeezed back.

And with that Harry left the room to collect his belongings. Probably for the last time, ever.  
**  
Twenty minutes later, when Harry came down the stairs with his trunk and rucksack, Bill and Charlie had already retired to their room, Ron was no where to be seen, Mr. Weasley had retired to the dining table where he was buried into the Daily Prophet, Mrs. Weasley wasn’t there but he could here the sound of utensils being banged and spoons being clattered far more noisily than they should from the kitchen. Ginny was sitting on the sofa, where Harry had been minutes ago, reading ‘Quidditch Through The Ages’ and sniffling softly, her nose red, as if she had been crying. Harry would’ve felt sorry for her if he hadn’t been so pissed off at being seen and used like a prized possession, instead of a real human being with real feelings. Fred and George were playing exploding snaps in the corner of the living room and looked up when he entered. They opened their mouths, as if to say something, then thought better of it and went back to their game.

Harry crossed the room, reached the main door, and went for the door knob, then hesitated. He waited for a few moments, his hand inches away from the door. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, didn’t know what he was expecting...maybe an apology...or a farewell. He waved the thought away with a heavy sigh and wrapped his fingers around the door knob, he twisted it to—

“Harry,” it was Hermione’s soft voice, hesitant but determined.

Harry turned around, still holding the door knob, “Yes?” he said, just as softly.

And she rushed to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders she buried her face in the crook of his neck, sniffling. She had been crying too then, Harry thought. But this time he did feel bad, because it was Hermione, who was really like a sister he never had. He stroked her hair with his free hand and she let out a muffled sob.

“I’ll make sure Percy doesn’t find out about Sirius,” she whispered, sniffling, so only he could hear. “Luckily, he had left for the ministry just before you guys arrived.”

“Thank you ‘mione, you are the best,” Harry mumbled truthfully, into her hair, his chest swelling with warmth for his friend.

She pulled back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and seemed to be gathering her composure. Clearing her throat she said in her usual bossy tone, “See you at school, I guess.” Then her face softened, “Take care, Harry.”

Then she turned away and went into the kitchen, her bushy hair bouncing behind her.

Harry exhaled and gave the house one last fleeting glance, capturing it into his memory. Then he finally opened the door and stepped past the threshold, his heart stuttering as he did so.

Outside, Sirius and Remus were waiting for him, standing with their backs towards the house and looking at the faraway hills. Sirius was taking a deep drag from his cigarette, but he hastily threw it away when he saw Harry coming and made a beeline for the teen, meeting him halfway down the path.

They didn’t say anything to each other as Remus quickly shrank his trunk, rucksack and Firebolt before pocketing them in his robes while Sirius unlatched Hedwig’s cage and allowed the snowy owl to perch on his arm, leaving the cage empty for Remus to shrink and pocket as well. Then, stroking the feathers at the top of her head, Sirius whispered something to her before extending his arm for her to take flight.

Then he turned to face Harry, studying the younger boy’s face for a long time as if looking for something. He must have found it, because he gave Harry a wan, but genuine smile before engulfing him in a warm hug. He stroked Harry’s hair just like he had done the last time in the park at Surrey, then his arms tightened around his godson, “You ready to go, pup?” He asked quietly.

And Harry knew that Sirius wasn’t just referring to apparition, but giving him a chance to change his mind. He nodded anyway.

He heard the crack of apparition as Remus disappeared before them, then felt Sirius planting a soft kiss at the top of his head.

Tightening his hold on his god father, Harry finally felt the uncomfortable feeling of being sucked through a pipe as they apparated away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING, DO LEAVE COMMENTS AND REVIEWS !! SEE YOU!!
> 
> Few side explanations. ( OPTIONAL)  
> 1\. For those who didn't understand. Sirius was giving Hedwig the address to No. 12 Grimmauld place. Because its under the fidellus charm and Sirius is tge Secret keeper. It will be explained later anyway, so don't worry. 
> 
> 2\. As to why Molly behaved the way she did. I think I made it pretty much clear in the chapter, but I ll do it again anyway. 
> 
> So remem ber 4 year and how cold Molly became towards Hermione after reading the prophet. It was then that I noticed that Hermione really wasn't treated as good as Harry was. Nothing bad, but it was something that had me wondering in the favouritism. 
> 
> Then, molly destroying the fred and George's hard work is cannon, and it really made me feel like Molly is far too controlling. And controlling parents, who go as far as to destroy and burn your hard work are really damaging for an ambitious child. They actually burden their kids with their expectations.  
> Also we always noticed how she liked interfering in other peoples buisness, always commenting on simple things like Bills hair. Again her controlling ways is damaging as she always tried to force her way onto her children, discouraging them in the process.  
> Not to mention how Ron was always ignored and shadowed until he became a prefect and suddenly Mrs. Weasley was giving him all the atenssion buying him a new broomstick, giving him a party. And it stuck me as something really sad, because of how Ron became important just cuz he had a badge, and that Ron had never had all this affection until then. Which is really unhealthy for a childs emotional growth. 
> 
> Then again, in the books, fred and george were always compared to percy and weren't appreciated just because they didn't choose something conventional. If it hadn't been for Harry's triwizard prize money, we never know if the twins would have got the chance to live their dreams to the fullest, before the war broke out.  
> And here again, the moment the twins started earning in huge amount and became rich, Mrs. Weasley suddenly found the idea of their joke shop appealing, intellingent, and worthy. To be honest, I find her like those controlling relatives who suddenly remember you when you become succesful. 
> 
> And finally the way she treated Sirius in book five had me hating Molly's guts. In the book she literally taunted Sirius about not taking care of Harry by landing himself in Azkaban, which was so cruel of her. And to mention how she was being so controlling about Harry in fifth year, saying that she was just worried. But damn you Molly, because Harry had the right to know, and Sirius understood Harry, and Sirius was in his right to tell Harry the truth if its right and if Harry wants to know. But Molly went on and taunted Sirius that he is just using Harry as a replacement for James, which was again something really cruel to say. 
> 
> And lastly, we remember that in third year, Ron's reaction to profdessor lupin's Lycanthropy wasn't positive, even the he got over it later. This points out that his family did have some wizarding stereotypes against halfbreeds, and since Molly didn't know Remus much, as she wasn't a part of the original order of the phonix, i think her reaction, mixed with everything else, along with her need to keep Harry to her, lead to such an intense reaction against Remus. You know how tensions were high and all. 
> 
> So there you have it.


	8. Draco's Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY VERY IMPORTANT! 
> 
> So I made a huge mistake in chapter 4 ( the night guardians)  
> I said that "Dumbuldore gave Sirius the coordinates of the grimmauld place. Which is wrong and a huge blunder.  
> I have edited it and corrected the mistake and i really request you all to go back to the 4 th chapter and re read it JUST TILL THIRD paragraph. Only till the 3rd paragraph. Apart from that, everything is same.  
> I have basically stated how sirius landed up back in the house and why he didn't do it earlier, that is the entire third year n the summer breaks after dat. PLS READ IT. 
> 
> WITH THAT SAID, HAPPY READING FOLKS!

Draco groaned in frustration and slammed another album shut. He was in the ‘family and heritage’ section of the library in the Manor, going through books after books, articles after articles and albums after albums, but still hasn’t found what he was looking for, which wasn’t surprising considering he didn’t even know what he was looking for! And there was far too much material to skim through!

He sighed and massaged his temple before picking up his coffee mug which was resting on the floor next to him amongst the maze of books, parchment and old newspapers. He had already finished three cups of tea and four mugs of coffee as evident from the empty cups scattered around at various tables in the library. He had been here for hours, jumping from one section to another before finally settling on the floor as he got tired of manoeuvring from table to table to reach the books he had pulled out, because apparently he had pulled out so many of them that one small table wasn’t enough and his hands won’t reach far enough on the larger tables.

He sipped his coffee and grimaced at the faint taste of pain relief potion that was mixed into it. His mother must have asked the house elf to mix it in his beverage to make sure that he didn’t miss his dosage. He wondered what his mother would say if she entered the library right now and saw the mess he had created. Or the cold reprimanding he would get from his father if he saw him right now, sitting on the floor like a servant amongst heaps of parchment, in his pyjamas, which was very undignified for a Malfoy, and drinking coffee instead of tea.

He took another large swig of his coffee before putting it aside in favour of another album. He didn’t have to worry about his father as he was in the ministry, pretending to be a good law abiding citizen by helping the ministry in managing the chaos that has ensued after what happened at world cup. Draco snorted at the irony. His father was one of the wizards who had actually started the death eater’s march, and the ministry was still as oblivious and ignorant as ever. All they saw was, Lucius Malfoy funding the ministry to pay off the compensatory damages to the victims.

Its been hours since Draco had returned from that anonymous forest, it was still dawn when he had left with the port key to the Manor, and it was almost supper time now. His mother had been frantic when Draco had landed in the Foyer with Lyra in his arms. She was still in her clothes from the previous night, her hair unkempt, strands of white blond falling loose from her hair do. She had immediately pulled Lyra from his arms, hugging her and kissing her all over her face as she ran her hands over Lyra’s body to make sure she was fine, tears of relief rolling down her cheeks. Then his mother had turned to Draco and engulfed him in a tight hug, a choked sob racking through her delicate frame, and it was then that he had realised how worried she must have been to show such unrestrained affection towards him. He knew his mother loved him and was more inclined to show it than his father, but this was still very rare. The last time his mother had hugged him like this was when he was eleven, after that horrid incident with Theodore Nott at his birthday party. Draco tried not to wince in his mother’s tight embrace, his back was still bruised and his skin was tender from the blow he had received in the blast which had thrown him off. It didn’t work. His mother noticed his stiff posture immediately. She pulled back and her eyes widened as she took in his appearance. His face was paler than usual with dried tear tracks running down his cheeks, his hair was tangled and unkempt, his cloths filthy, Harry’s muggle overcoat was slipping down his shoulders, looking out of place in the traditional wizarding manor. His shoes were scrapped and his shirt torn. Draco was relived to see that Harry had at least cleaned off most of the blood from his neck, shoulder, and shirt. Because his mother would have gone ballistic at the sight of his blood, he was sure of it.

She was still livid at the sight of him being injured though, and had ordered all the house elves to get a full meal and bath ready for him before calling their family healer, who had been so alarmed at the sight of an angry lady Malfoy that he had rushed through the floo within minutes with his briefcase, still in his night clothes, and without going through the regular healer protocols.

He had given Lyra a quick check up before declaring her healthy, following which, the head house elf had taken her to her room for bath, food and rest. Draco had been relieved to get a healer’s confirmation that Lyra was indeed fine, he was a tiny bit worried if Harry had done a proper job with her knees, considering it was wand less magic that he had performed on her. Then the healer had turned to Draco.

Draco had come out with a few hairline cracks in his ribs, bruises on his back and sides, and scraped knees and elbows. All minor injuries, which were quickly healed with spells or potions. The only major injuries were his ankle and his shoulder. The healer had quirked an eyebrow at the intelligent use of bandages for relaxing muscles. Nevertheless, he had run a few tests, just to be sure, and had given an approving nod when found everything whole and proper, before giving Draco a few pain relief and muscle relaxants.

The healer then proceeded to examine his shoulder, then frowned, before waving his wand and running a few tests again. “ _You_ , did this?” he asked, still examining his stiches.

Draco had felt uneasy at the question. He didn’t want to tell his mother and the healer that he had allowed a fourteen year old stranger to point a wand at him and perform a complicated stitching charm, which was way above the level of a teenager. Because it sounded so crazy and trusting to let someone near you when you are injured and vulnerable, not to mention Malfoy’s don’t trust easily and let their guard down.

But he had explained them briefly the events of the previous night and how a boy had come to their rescue. He had faltered a little at the part about wand less magic and apparition, thinking that they won’t believe him, but then decided to stick with the truth. At least that way he could say that Harry seemed competent enough to be trusted with healing. His mother’s eyebrows had gone higher and higher into her hair line as he proceeded with the story, but she didn’t interrupt.

When he finished, the frown on the healer’s face had deepened, “Fourteen years old, you say?” asked the healer, referring to Harry’s age, and Draco nodded.

The healer sighed, and started packing his briefcase, putting his notes and potion vials back into place, still frowning.

“Is something wrong, Mr. William?” his mother asked, worriedly.

Mr. William, their healer, shook his head and smiled reassuringly at them. “Everything is fine, Mrs. Malfoy. Your son was very lucky to have found someone who knew what they were doing. I must admit, it would have been...rather problematic if he hadn’t got that—” he gestured at Draco’s shoulder “—healed on time. Apart from a little scarring, there is nothing to worry about. Although,” he frowned again, “it's been a while since I have seen that spell being used.” At Draco’s and Narcissa’s confused look, he chuckled, “Nothing to be bothered about. Its a spell which was taught to Aurors in their most basic first aid trainings. It was quick and easy, making it ideal to be used in the field instead of the more complicated and time taking charms used by healers. The only downside of this spell was immense pain and scarring, which doesn’t happen with the charms used in St. Mungos. However, this spell hasn’t been used in a decade as it was replaced by more advance and painless spells.” He waved his hand, “But everything is fine, just make sure he takes his potions, and he’ll be as good as new in a day or two.”

Mr. William finished packing his briefcase, then inclined his head in farewell, and with a, “Pass my greeting to Mr. Malfoy,” to his mother, he stepped into the floo.

His mother fussed over him for a while before sending him to his room to freshen up. He was given strict orders to rest after eating his breakfast which would be sent to his room.

Draco had just nodded and retreated to his room, his mind reeling with all the information. Any new information he got about Harry was only raising more questions instead of answers.

At some point later, his father had returned home and Draco had found out that he had been in the ministry the whole time Draco was missing, feigning innocence.

Draco had pretended to be asleep when he had come to meet him. He was in no mood to see his father.

He regretted the moment he had left Harry in that clearing with such a cold farewell only to come home and realise that his father was the reason for all the mess and had been in the ministry, protecting his damn powerful position while his son was hurt and missing and his mother was worried sick!

His father had left soon after, and the cacophony of voices he had heard was a sure indication that his father won’t be returning to the Manor anytime soon if he wanted his neck intact. Its funny how the great Lucius Malfoy shrinks like a resin in front of his wife. Draco would have found it comical if not for the resentment he was feeling towards Lucius.

He had been so worried about his father that he hadn’t even asked Harry’s name.

And that thought had left Draco so restless that he hadn’t been able to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, images of Harry would flash across his mind like a slideshow. Harry looking at him worriedly, Harry picking him up in his arms, Harry caressing his cheek, Harry smiling at him, Harry murmuring comforting things to him, Harry talking to him, Harry snuggling up to him, Harry laughing with Lyra, Harry cooing at his dog, Harry frowning, Harry laughing, Harry...just Harry. He couldn’t get the image of Harry tentatively waving to him with a small smile, in a goodbye, out of his bloody head. It was maddening. He felt such deep longing for Harry that it almost became difficult to breath, let alone sleep. He felt that same tug at his heart that he had felt when he was about to leave Harry, and Draco had finally lost it. He had thrown his blankets aside, and asked a house elf to put a strong statis charm on Harry’s overcoat to make sure it retained Harry’s smell and magical signature for a long time. Then he had pulled it on himself, wrapping it tightly around his slender body before rushing to the library, to look for any information he could find on Harry.

That had been hours ago. Draco had spent the entire afternoon and evening in the library but was nowhere close to finding anything about Harry, not to mention the name was so common that it wasn’t easy anyway.

The only think he came across were few exaggerated articles on a certain boy who lived from 13 years ago, which were useless to him anyway as he had already read a lot about Harry Potter, not to mention the constant updates he got from Blaise in his letters. He had skipped through all the Harry Potter articles for now, in favour of searching about his Harry. His childhood fantasy could wait, he was far more eager about the person in his real memory now.

Draco shut another album and sighed. This one had nothing significant too.

He leaned back against the large bookshelf he was sitting close to, and stared out of the high ceiling window, looking over at the grounds and lake that surrounded the manor. Unfolding the collar of his—Harry’s—overcoat, he brought it up to his cheeks and nose, and breathed into the fresh scent of lemon, oranges and first rain. The fabric was still warm from Harry’s warming charm and Draco pulled at the cuffs of the coat, making sweater paws out of them. He felt an immediate rush of warmth and contentment spread through him at the heavenly fragrance, and he hummed to himself in appreciation. As he sipped his coffee, he wondered what Harry must be doing right now—was he sleeping?—or playing with his dog and laughing? Did he find his wand? Was he safe? Or was he injured too, and Draco had just missed his pain in his own tangled thoughts? Was he getting proper attention? Was he angry with Draco for being so ungrateful towards him? Was he thinking about Draco at all? Or was he with his honorary godfather, Lupin, eating and reading, and forgetting Draco already?

Draco exhaled, he had thought of searching Remus Lupin, as it was the only name he knew which was related to Harry in some way. But he had soon realised that it won’t help because the contrast between Harry and his Godfather had been too much to find any connections. Harry looked fresh and wealthy, while Lupin was just the opposite. And there was no chance in hell that he would find anything about a poor common wizard in the Malfoy Library anyway. And even if he did, Lupin was Harry’s godfather and didn’t seem related to Harry, which only meant that he was a friend, which won’t be much of a help in his search, as a person could have so many friends, and books don’t really have information about who was whose friend, or which friend was close enough to be a godfather to ones child.

Draco sighed, this was driving him insane. Snuggling into the coat, he buried his hand in the pocket and gently pulled out the priceless object that he had found in there a while ago.

He held it in his hands with reverence, just like he had done all the other times in the last few hours. He knew what it was—a wizarding wallet, an authentic wizarding wallet, made of Occamy leather, and polished with Thestral oil, two of the rarest materials to acquire. He had thought that it was a fake one when he had first seen it, but he was proven wrong when he had tried, and failed, to pull out the photographs that were inside the display flaps of the wallet. When he had realised that it was a first class authentic piece, he had just stared at it for a while, because this was something so priceless that even his father would sell his fortune to acquire it. His great grandfather had a goblin made authentic wallet, but it was made of Runespoor skin, which was not as rare as this one. He had wondered if it belonged to someone else, because surely no one would give Harry, a fourteen year old kid, something as premium as this. But then he had seen the logo of a silver stag at the bottom right corner of the front flap, and was sure that it was either Harry’s or his father’s, because Draco couldn’t shake off the feeling that the stag was similar to Harry’s Patronus to the very last curve of its antlers.

This was one of the reasons why he had hopes of finding a clue to Harry’s identity in his library, because this was a testament of the fact that Harry was related to a very prestigious pureblood house and Malfoy Library had a lot of books on royal magical heritage, but that didn’t turn out well either, because the world cup had wizards coming from all around the globe, and narrowing it down to a single country wasn’t easy, especially if Harry spoke English, which was used in so many countries.

Then he had tried to narrow it down with the help of the wallet, but that raised more questions, because Occamy was exclusively found in countries like India or other south Asian countries, while Thestral was indigenous to Europe. Draco knew only one house which fit into this category, only one ancient and noble house, in his knowledge, had its roots in India but was residing in Europe, and it was the House of Potters.

Draco had fantasised about the idea of being this close to Harry Potter, that his childhood hero had indeed been the one he had met the other night. That he had actually met and spend time with Harry Potter without even knowing it, and that it was Harry Potter, the hero of the wizarding world, down on his knees in front of him, unlacing his shoes and mending his bones. That the soft hearted boy, with an aura as bright as gold itself, was indeed Harry Potter, and Draco could easily contact him if he wanted. And that the Boy who Lived was indeed as powerful as Draco had expected. But even if the initials on the wallet— _H.J.P_ —supported the theory of his Harry being The Harry Potter, other evidences pointed towards the contrary.

According to Blaise, Potter was a scrawny awkward boy, who wore dorky glasses and cloths that looked like hand me downs from a baby elephant, and had hair as messy as a bird’s nest. And all this didn’t fit into the Harry, Draco had met. His Harry was charming and innocent, with bright green eyes and messily styled hair, his Harry wore snake ear cuffs and Dragon hide boots, and expensive soft overcoats. His Harry had blue streaks of hair, and wore perfectly fitted ripped muggle jeans.

And that wasn’t all. It was common knowledge that Potter lived with his muggle relatives and his Harry had told him that he had learned healing spells from his Dad. Which contradicted all his theories of Harry actually being Harry Potter. Because, even if Potter called his muggle relative Dad, a muggle cannot teach Potter anything magical.

The other theory was that Potter lived with his muggle relatives but called someone else Dad, someone who was a wizard and could teach him skills that his Harry had known. But the only person that fit into that category was Remus Lupin, whom Harry had introduced as his honorary God father. But that won’t be right because of two things. One: his Harry didn’t call Mr. Lupin ‘Dad’ even ones; second: That if Harry was indeed Harry Potter and had a magical guardian named Remus Lupin, then why would Potter live with his muggle relatives, also, Remus Lupin would have made the news if he was Harry Potter’s guardian.

And then there was the fact that Harry had told him that he heard his parents getting murdered whenever he encountered Dementors, which meant that Harry had probably seen it happening. And as blood curdling as the thought was, he couldn’t ignore the fact that there was no chance of Harry Potter actually remembering what happened to his parents when he was a one year old baby. The idea was too far fetched. And there went the last connection between his Harry and the ‘boy Hero’ Harry Potter down the drain. Because the whole world knew that Potter lost his parents as an infant, making it impossible for him to actually remember the incident, while his Harry had probably lost his parents at an age which would make it plausible to stay in a person’s memory.

So yeah, everything pointed out towards the fact that his Harry was still very much a mystery.

Draco raised his hand, bringing the wallet to his eye level, and watched as its silver coated corners reflected the golden glow that was coming from the fireplace. He knew that it would vanish soon. Its magic would soon realise that it wasn’t close to its rightful owner, and once it has decoded the wards of the Manor it would just disappear. The statis charm on Harry’s coat, which was preserving his magical signature, would fade soon, and Draco would be left with Harry’s coat as the only reminder of that fateful night.

He turned the wallet in his hands, looking at it from every angel. He knew that there were photos, an international Gringotts money card, and an old piece of folded parchment inside the display flaps of the wallet. He had looked at them again and again in the last few hours, hoping to find some clues, but it was no help at all.

He sighed, and flipped it open. In the first transparent flap was an old parchment. It was folded, and the only thing that was visible were two words— Dear Padfoot. Draco knew that it was probably a letter. He also knew that it probably had the answers to all his questions, but the parchment was folded, and all he could do was to look at the part which was displayed, as he won’t be able to pull it out from the wallet anyway. He flipped it to the next card holder, which had a picture in it.

It was a wizarding photograph. A small baby with bright green eyes and a mop of black hair was riding a toy broom, a large delighted grin on his face. A pair of legs, rushing after the broom, were visible in the photograph. And a beautiful young women was laughing in the background, looking lovingly at the baby and the man in the picture. It was a beautiful picture. So natural and carefree, that it made Draco almost envious. He had never seen his mother laugh so openly, nor did he remember his father playing with him like this. His father loved him, yes, but he never turned into a child while playing with him when he was younger. Lucius had given him everything he had asked for, apart from his time. His father’s way of showing affection was a lot more materialistic than what he saw in this picture. Draco shook his head and flipped to the next display.

This one was a wizarding photograph too. And it was this picture that had confirmed Draco’s doubts about the identity of the people in the first picture.

In this one, a man, who looked remarkably like Harry, was cooking, and probably humming to himself, as he flipped the spatula and swayed his hips. The resemblance was so uncanny, that for a moment Draco had though that it was Harry in the picture when he had seen it for the first time. But then he had noticed that the person in the picture was taller and older than Harry, and was wearing glasses, which had a pair of warm brown eyes behind them, and not the vivid green. It was surely Harry’s father. And it had taken Draco a little off guard at how young he looked. He looked around the age of twenty, and it was difficult to imagine that this man, with a goofy boyish grin on his face, was married and had a child already.

The picture looped, and a women with same vivid green eyes as Harry’s appeared in the frame, looking just as young as the man, carrying a toddler in her arms, who was resting on her hip. She kissed the man’s cheek and he turned around. When his eyes landed on the woman and the baby, they lit up so bright with love that even Draco could see it in the picture. The man wrapped his arms around the woman’s waist and turned her around, her back now resting against the counter. Unbeknown to them, the jar of flour, which was lying open on the counter, was now in clear sight of the baby, and he made to grab it with his little chubby hands. And as the man bend down to kiss his wife, the entire jar came toppling down, showering the three of them with flour from head to toe, making them jump apart in surprise. And just as they started laughing at the flour covered face of their baby, who was laughing and clapping merrily at his parents, the picture looped again and replayed the scene.

Draco sucked in a sharp breath. God! But Harry had one beautiful family. And no matter how many times Draco saw this picture, the love and the happiness in it always took him a little off guard, overwhelming him with a rush of emotions he never knew he could feel. Draco wished that he had never seen this photograph, because looking at Harry’s family-- so happy and in love--was just so beautiful, that the knowledge of his parent’s death became even more depressing, their loss even more oppressing, and real, and just... just so crushingly heavy.

Draco blinked back his tears—Merlin! He had cried more in the last two days than in the last two years combined. He shook his head, and flipped onto the next photograph.

This one had a younger version of Lupin lying on a plush leather couch, his head resting awkwardly on the arm rest, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. One of his arm was wrapped around baby Harry, who was sprawled across his chest, sleeping peacefully. His other arm was limply holding a children’s book which was lying open on Baby Harry’s bum, completely forgotten.

As the photograph looped, Harry’s parents entered the frame. His mother sank to her knees beside the couch and gently lifted Lupin’s head before placing a pillow under it. She adjusted the pillow as Harry’s father plucked the book from Lupin’s hand and wrapped a blanket around him, tucking him snugly into it. Lupin’s free hand, unconsciously, came to rest protectively around the baby as he curled up on his side, wedging the baby between himself and the back of the couch. Harry’s parents smiled when he wrinkled his little nose before cuddling into the older man, his small chubby fingers clutching the front of his god father’s sweater. Then his mother kissed his temple, before doing the same with lupin. As she got up with her husband, the scene ended and the picture went back to replaying itself.

This was the only picture which had anything scribbled on it. There, At the bottom of the photograph, in a small, messy, but still beautiful handwriting was written a simple sentence.

_Credits to Padfoot. My world summed up. Padfoot’s cutest paw pals. Little Prongslet having his power nap before his next adventure with Moony._

Draco huffed, no matter how he read it, the message just didn’t make any sense. He remembered Harry addressing Lupin as Moony. At that time he hadn’t paid much attention to it, but now he realized that it must be some silly nickname for Lupin. Draco read the message again and groaned, what was with Harry and his association with deer. His Patronus was a stag, he said his father was a stag, which didn’t make any sense to Draco, his wallet had stag made on it. And now he had a funny nickname—Prongslet. What was his father called? Prongs? Bambi? Staggers? Were they naming humans or animals? And who was this Padfoot? Padfoot’s paw pals? Seriously? Did Harry’s family have a creature farm or some kind of sanctuary for animals? And that’s why they loved weird animal nicknames? It won’t surprise him, after all he had a Grim for a pet.

He knew this Padfoot person must be important because the letter in the first flap was addressed to Padfoot too. It would have been so easy if only this person had used his real name, was that so difficult? Was that too much to ask? It was driving Draco crazy. Even more so, when he remembered that Harry had addressed snuffles—his grim—as Padfoot. And Draco could never forget that, because he had paid all his attention to that giant scary dog, who looked like he could rip Draco’s skin out. He would never forget how tame and intelligent it was. How un-animal like. It had found Harry even through the wards, which were meant to confuse creatures and warn him of their presence. And it can’t be a mere coincidence that Harry called his dog Padfoot and wrote letters to a certain Padfoot, too. And surely a dog can’t click pictures. Draco had an inkling feeling that the dog’s eyes were uncannily knowing and human like. And he could bet his pretty ice blond hair that he had woken up to the sound of a man in that clearing before that beast had appeared. At that time, he had been so frightened and shocked, that he had ignored it as some dream or hallucinations. But now he couldn’t ignore it. It would make a lot of sense if Harry’s dog wasn’t a dog, but an animagus. It would also make sense of the fact that Harry’s father was a stag. Which was a really weird thing to say about ones father until that person was an animagus or something close to that. It won’t be surprising, Harry’s parents must be powerful and skilled wizards too, as Harry was an exceptionally talented boy for his age.

And the next photograph solidified his theory because it was a picture of baby Harry enthusiastically riding on the back of the same large black dog, as it chased after a magnificent stag, with Lupin and Harry’s mother laughing and rolling their eyes in the background.

But if this was true, and Harry’s father and this padfoot person were really Animagi, then either they were unregistered, because he had already searched through the books and discovered that U.K only had seven registered Animagi and all of them were too old and unrelated to Harry, or Harry was not British and therefore his father wasn’t registered here, which meant that Harry could be from any other country. Which brought Draco back to square one, raising the ever-present question of where he should be looking for to find anything related to Harry.

It was the next and the last picture that had answered his question, and had forced him to go through all the Malfoy family albums.

The last photograph was of a man with jet black shoulder length hair which was tied in a trendy ponytail, a few strands of hair falling elegantly on his face. He was exceptionally handsome, and that was saying something because Draco rarely ever considered anyone worth complimenting. He had stormy grey eyes, well defined cheek bones and a perfect aristocratic nose. But all his royal features were contradicted by his rebellious outfit, which included a black leather jacket over a printed black band T shirt, accompanied by a small piercing in his left ear, just like the teenage Harry had now. He was sitting on a black two wheel thingy which muggles use to travel. The motorbike (as Shambhavi called it) was standing stationary, a bit tilted to the side, which was the same side the man had planted one of his foot firmly on the ground, his other foot was resting on the front footrest on the other side of the bike. Baby Harry was sitting in front of him, dressed almost identical to the man, except in more comfortable clothes. Instead of black denims and Dragon hide boots, Harry was wearing black sweatpants accompanied by small black fur boots. And in place of the leather jacket, Harry was wearing a black hoodie with ‘little troublemaker’ written on its front.

One of the man’s arm was wrapped around baby Harry, resting on his tummy, preventing him from falling, while his other hand was holding an ice cream cone, from which Harry was eagerly licking off the sweet cold dessert, smearing chocolate all over his face and nose. Draco watched as the man shifted the ice cream into the hand which was holding Harry and twisted around to pull something out from his back pocket, turning his attention away from Harry, but not loosening his grip on the baby. Harry, noticing that the ice cream wasn’t brought up to his mouth to lick, promptly took matters into his hands, quite literally, and squished the entire cold dollop of cream into his small chubby fingers and placed it into his mouth, just as the man turned around with a handkerchief in his hand, only to find the cone empty, and Harry’s jumper and hands completely covered in chocolate and his small lips and nose scrunched up at the coldness, making the man laugh. Harry looked up, grinning, and raised his hand towards the man’s face, curling and uncurling his tiny fingers. The scene ended just as the man took Harry’s small hand in his, unperturbed by the cream, and kissed it.

Draco couldn’t stop the smile that curled across his lips at the sight of such open and innocent love. It was so satisfying and fulfilling to watch Harry’s family showing him such pure and unrestrained affection. It spread warmth to the very tips of Draco’s fingers, making his heart swell with such deep longing that he felt like his heart would burst. He didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling all these emotions about which he had only read in romantics books and novels, and he didn’t know why he was feeling them so strongly. He knew he had a crush on Harry. It was quite normal to develop a crush on someone who saved you, especially if that person was so humble and good-looking. But surely having a crush didn’t feel like this. Draco knew his feelings for Harry ran far deeper than they should, but he didn’t care. It was the first time he had ever wanted someone so bad, and he would go after them with everything, before giving up. Father always said, ‘What a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets’. And if he wanted Harry, then he won’t rest until he had figured out a way to find him.

Draco had already gone through these photos more than what was healthy. But it had paid off, because in the man’s hand was the same watch that Harry had been wearing in the forest. The watch which, according to Harry, was his dad’s, and was gifted to him when he turned fourteen. But the interesting thing was, that Harry’s biological father wasn’t wearing that watch in any of the pictures. Which meant that Harry was referring to this man when he told him about his watch, which led Draco to conclude that this must be the person Harry called ‘Dad’ after he lost his parents. Harry’s dressing style as a teenager made it quite obvious. But these were all assumptions, and there were just too many loopholes and coincidences to conclude anything solid. But a few things were obvious. One: Lupin wasn’t Harry’s all time guardian, the man didn’t look like the kind who could afford Harry’s expensive outfits and certainly not the one influencing his dressing sense, but Lupin was an important part in Harry’s life, and had been for a long time. Second: Harry’s biological father was an animagus, particularly a stag. Third: Harry’s Patronus was a stag and according to him it was because his father was a stag, and that his father was dead, which meant that it was Harry’s biological parents who were murdered, and not someone else whom Harry just considered a fatherly figure. But Harry had learned healing and other things from his father too and had received a watch this very summer when he turned fourteen, which meant that either Harry had lost his parents this very summer, or there was someone else whom Harry had referred as his father. And it was here that things got complicated. Because, he had no way of knowing who this other Dad was, or if this other dad actually existed. If Draco’s assumptions were correct then it was the person in the last picture who was looking after Harry now and was this other dad. It would make sense considering the man knew Harry since he was a baby and was important enough for Harry to carry his photograph in his wallet. And if that was really the case, then it was this man’s identity that could lead him to Harry.

And then there was this Padfoot person and his association with snuffles. The fact that this dog was present when Harry was a baby and is still present after fourteen years was a little suspicious. That was quite a long time for a dog who didn’t seem any older now than he did in the fourth photograph from fourteen years ago. And if Draco was on the right track then this Dog was actually this person in the last photo. The man’s grey eyes, which were so similar to snuffles’, would certainly attest to that. It would fit into his theory of Harry’s guardians being Animagi, and would also explain how the dog got past the wards, because he was actually a wizard in disguise. It would also explain the little note on the picture in which Lupin was sleeping on the couch. Because padfoot can take pictures only when he isn’t a dog, but a wizard who can turn into a dog. It would also explain why Harry was struggling when it came to explaining snuffles’ presence. At that time it had seemed normal, because even Draco would stumble upon his words if he had to explain the presence of a Grim. But if Harry had been with this dog since he was in his diapers, then there was no reason for him to struggle with an introduction. One would think that Harry would have been used to explaining his dog, which he wasn’t, which was again indicating towards his theory about animagus.

But as Draco has said earlier, these were all assumptions and there was no way for him to know if any of these were correct. Too many gaps and missing Pieces. There was a huge chance that Draco was reading far too much into Harry’s words, or he was reading them all wrong.

But what intrigued Draco the most, was the familiarity he felt when he saw the man in the last picture. It was as if he had seen this person before, as if he knew this person. But where? He would have discarded this as his imagination and his wishful thinking which was desperately looking for some relation with Harry. But that can’t be. The man’s features, his eyes, his nose, everything about him subtly reminded Draco of his mother. But that can’t be possible. It was too farfetched. But he couldn’t ignore the evidence in front him. The watch the man was wearing, the watch Harry had been wearing, was eerily familiar too. It was a traditional watch, which is presented to the eldest son when they turn fourteen, according to an old custom among pureblood families. And that wasn’t the only thing which was disturbing. It was the fact that he had seen this watch somewhere too. He had seen someone wearing it. And whenever he looked at this watch, his mind would get assaulted with distant hazy memories. A gala, a man, traditional dress robes, champagne, and something black and white.

And he was correct. He had actually been able to figure out where exactly he had seen that time piece.

He closed the wallet and safely tucked it away in his—Harry’s—coat pocket, hoping that it would stay there for a day or two before disappearing. Then he picked up a photo frame from the floor.

This photo frame has been adorning the night stand in his bedroom for years. Something that he had seen so many times in his life that it should be carved out in his memory. But that wasn’t how it was. It was one of those things, that were just so obvious and ever-present in his life that he had taken it for granted. That he had almost missed what was in it.

He knew that it was a picture of his parents from their wedding reception. He knew what his parents were wearing in this photo, even remembered it quite well--to the very last detail. He knew what his parents were doing in this photograph—smiling, or smirking in his father’s case, and giving small nods and polite smiles to the guests who were greeting them.

But Draco had never bothered to get a closer look at the background, never bothered to identify the guests, or appreciate the details of the decoration. But even if his conscious mind had missed all this, his subconscious hadn’t, because the details always remained somewhere in the back of his mind. Always making things look familiar, always giving him that vague image, which never got clearer no matter how hard he tried. It was like the feeling he got in his exams. When he knew the answer to a question, when he knew he has read about it somewhere, when the answer is there in his throat but not on his tongue. Its like when you are inches away from catching the snitch in a Quidditch match but always missing it at the last moment. The feeling when the mirror is not clear, or someone’s voice is slightly muffled, making it difficult to comprehend their words.

This photo was just like that. And it was in this photo that he had seen that watch. The watch that was a big piece in the puzzle called Harry.

He looked at the photo again. His mother was standing beside his father, her arm looped into his. It was rather normal, nothing much was happening in this image. A few guests would pass by his parents, only their sides or backs visible in the frame, as they mostly stood facing the newly weds and away from the camera. His mother would bow to them, or politely smile, while his father would shake hands with some, and nod to others. It was rather bland and monotonous.

That was until Draco noticed a certain watch in one of the guest’s hand.

It happened a few seconds before the loop ended. A man, or a boy (Draco wasn’t sure as he had his back towards the camera), dressed in immaculately smart dress robes entered the frame. His jet black hair was long enough to touch the collar of his white shirt at the nape of his neck. It seemed like he would pass by his parents just like any other guest, but then Draco noticed something that no other guest had done—the man very discreetly touched his mother’s elbow, drawing her attention. His father gave the man a fleeting glance from the corner of his eyes but didn’t acknowledge his presence, which was strange. Because the man was standing rather close to Narcissa, closer than considered polite for a simple guest. The lack of greeting from his father was strange too, as he was greeting everyone else.

Then the man ducked his head and whispered something in Narcissa’s ear, discreetly jerking his head towards Lucius. His mother smiled ruefully at the man and nodded. And with that, the man left Narcissa’s side. The scene ended soon after that, and Draco never got a chance to look at the man’s face.

But Draco didn’t miss the watch the man was wearing. It had become visible when the man had held his mother’s elbow and the cuff of his sleeve had ridden up a little to reveal a certain watch on his wrist.

And that was why Draco had recognised it on Harry’s hand, because he had seen this watch everyday in this very photograph.

And that was why he was skimming through every fucking album in the library, hoping to find just who this bloke was. He had gone through the albums of his birthday parties, his parent’s school days, his mother’s galas and parties, his father’s meetings and night outs, he had even gone through the records of his father’s business deals, but no luck. How was it possible that this man was in his parent’s wedding but not in any other fucking event. Pureblood marriages were very private affair, and his parents wouldn’t have invited just anyone.

There was only one rule as to how his parents decided on who should be invited to any event. The person should either be important to his mother, or to his father’s business and social standing. And if this bloke, who was somehow related to Harry, was at his parent’s wedding reception then he just had to be somewhere else as well. But for the love merlin! he wasn’t, and Draco was getting so frustrated that he felt like pulling his beautiful hair out!

Or maybe not his hair. But surely the pages of these damn albums.

He had already asked his mother if she knew who this person was, subtly of course. But she had just frowned, then looked at him intently with an unreadable expression on her face before saying, “I don’t remember, Draco. There were too many people, and it’s been quite a while, don’t you think?” in a calm, stoic tone, which made him even more suspicious. His mother rarely ever lied to him and this was one of those rare moments. But Draco knew better than to press her for the truth, not when she was still pissed at his father.

He groaned and discarded the photo frame, before pulling out another album from the shelf closest to him, without getting up.

He opened it, then paused. This one contained photos from the party which was thrown by his father when he was born. Most of the pictures were of his mother holding a small pale blue bundle in her arms, or of various guests holding him or cooing over him. Some were simply pictures of him sleeping, or sucking his thumb, or looking at everything with big fascinated grey eyes. There were also pictures of his father holding him, with a bright proud smile on his face, not a smirk, but a genuine, radiant smile. Photos of his father tickling his tummy or touching his cheeks and so on and so fourth.

Draco sighed, and shut this album too. As enjoyable as it was to watch his extremely cute baby self, the man of his mystery wasn’t in there.

There was a pop and Tilli appeared in the library, wearing her signature tea towel with Malfoy family crest. She bowed, then spoke in a high pitched squeaky voice “Mistress has asked Tilli to inform young master Draco that supper is ready. Mistress wants master Draco to be there.”

“Thank you, Tilli,” Draco said, “tell mother, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Tilli’s face broke into a huge toothy grin and she bowed low, before vanishing with a pop.

Draco got up, feeling blood rushing through his legs that had gone numb from the hours of sitting on the floor. He rolled his shoulder, making them pop and rubbed his aching neck before picking up his baby album to put it back into the shelf.

Something slid down from between the pages of the thick album and fell on the marble floor.

Draco cocked his head, then bend down to pick it up. It was a piece of parchment with a newspaper cutting peeking out from within its folds.

He was about to put it back into the book and head for dinner, when his eyes landed on the headline of the article.

He stopped, staring at the paper cutting. The headline screamed:

  
_Youngest Black Heir Declared Dead: killed by You-Know-Who himself_

  
_November 26th ,1979, London._

  
_Reliable sources at the Daily Prophet have reported the tragic demise of the youngest heir of The Ancient and the Most Noble House of Black: Regulus Arcturus Black, 18. The news came to light when You-Know-Who allegedly claimed, in front of his followers, that Regulus Black was showing signs of disloyalty and defection, and therefore, has got what he deserved for his dishonesty. He also took the credit for the murder of the young death eater, sending a strong message to his followers as to what would happen to those who so much as thought of turning into traitors in the new era that the Dark Lord envisions to establish in the wizarding world under his reign. The announcement was made by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when concerns were raised by his followers regarding the prolonged and unexplained absence of the deceased. However, no body has been retrieved as the actual time, date, place and circumstances surrounding Regulus’s death still remain unknown. Resources have informed the Daily Prophet, that Regulus black was last seen on 20th November, almost a week before his death was confirmed by the Dark lord. However, speculations are being made regarding the suspicious and strange nature of the young wizard’s death. People have gone as far as to say that its unusual for the Dark Lord to not exhibit such an act of punishment and remain silent about it until recently. On the other hand, some blood purists have suggested that the secrecy surrounding the incident can also be seen as a way of ensuring that no traces of a Traitor were left behind. The boy’s family members have declined to comment on the matter._

_Regulus Black, a Slytherin in his Hogwarts days, was possibly the sole heir of the Black Family fortune after the disownment of his elder brother, Sirius Black, 20, Junior Auror. He joined the Death Eater ranks straight after he graduated from Hogwarts school of Witch craft And Wizardry, and had been in You-Know-Who’s service since then._

  
_For More information on the House of Black: page 5._

  
_The estranged heirs of The house of Blacks, a brief life history of Sirius and Andromeda Black: page 6._

  
Draco’s mind was reeling with what he had just read. He knew who these people were. He knew that they were his family. But he didn’t know much about them. He didn’t know enough about them. He has never seen them, never met them. These names, although family, were like taboos in his house. But he knew who they were, he has heard these names being taken by his father’s friends, he had heard these names being accompanied by snide remarks and crude insults. He had heard people saying how shameful it was that the eldest son and daughter of the most ancient pureblood house turned into the biggest blood traitors of all times. But that was all he had ever heard about them. Of how Andromeda Black, the oldest among the three black sisters, married some mud blood and disgraced her family. He had heard some of them saying what a fool Sirius Black was to forgo such an honourable name, heard them saying of what an asset he would have been if only he had the brains to let go of his rebellious streak. Draco didn’t know what they meant by it, and his parents never explained much. Although, he did know that Sirius Black didn’t join the death eaters and had defied his family by joining the light side which led to his disownment, but he didn’t know the details, his parents never talked about him much. That was until last year when Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban, the first one to do so, and became the most wanted criminal in Europe. He had heard a few tit bits of conversation from the adults on his birthday last year. Of how foolish it was of the ministry to think that Sirius Black was the spy, when it was Peter Pettigrew. How they were glad that Black at least did one good thing by killing the real spy along with 12 other muggles. How he had reduced some unnecessary burden from this world by murdering those filthy muggles. He had heard his father’s friends regretting not being able to kill Peter Pettigrew themselves, because it was his information that had led to the Dark Lord’s demise. How they were thankful that the cowardly bastard was killed by Sirius Black before he could give away the names of other death eaters. He had heard his father’s allies saying how Regulus Black wasn’t a good Death Eater anyway, heard them laughing and debating over how he must have died, just for their entertainment, as if they were not debating over a person’s death but a loss of a team in a Quidditch match.

But that’s as far as Draco’s knowledge went about his mother’s side of family, or the traitors of his mother’s side of the family. He had seen a few old pictures of his aunt Andromeda from her early years in his mother’s childhood albums, but not in the later ones. And Sirius Black had been out of the frames from a very young age, while Regulus Black had stayed throughout the family albums, looking young and naive among all the adults.

His parents never talked about them, and Draco never asked. They never much participated in the conversations surrounding these people even among their peers. And even though his father nodded and agreed with his fellow death eaters, he never played an active role in these discussions.

Initially, Draco had thought that it was because his father saw it beneath himself to talk about blood traitors. But it seemed that his silence was for a completely different reason.

Was there a chance that his mother still missed her family? Was there a chance that his father had actually considered and regarded Regulus Black as a family? That he was as amicable with his brother-in-law as he seemed in those family albums?

Draco knew, that no matter what rumours and stories were circulated, no one actually found out what happened to his mother’s youngest brother. He had even heard people saying that the Dark lord himself didn’t know what had happened, and was simply taking advantage of the situation.

But why was this article here? Tucked away, hidden, in a secluded corner of the library? Why would his parents keep the declaration of a family member’s death in his baby album. His parents weren’t the type of people who kept newspaper cuttings as Memorials. His father only kept such cuttings when they were about his enemies or his business, and all of them were in the files in his study anyway. And his mother, just like him, wasn’t a very newspaper person, she was more of a fashion magazine type.

Then why? And most importantly, who? Surely his father must have found out about this piece of information before it was published.

Draco hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to read what was written on this parchment. It wasn’t like he ever missed his family, he didn’t, there was no reason to, he has never even seen them, or met them anyway. But he couldn’t deny that he had always felt a sense of loss whenever he saw his friends with big loving families, full of uncles and cousins and siblings to share their Christmas or other festivals with, to have small gatherings and private dinners with, full of laughter and childhood stories. He had felt this loss for the first time when he had stayed at Shambhavi’s house for a Christmas when his parents had gone for a vacation. Her family was so full and complete, there were so many people and it was a mess, but a happy mess. He had tried not to dwell on it, accepting that he would never have anything like that. But after reading this article, and all about the people who could have been in his life, he felt a little overwhelmed by how many things he was missing on in his life, just because of who he was. And he couldn’t help but wonder just how things would have been if he really had a big family. Would he have gotten embarrassed too when his mother would have told everyone his funny childhood tales over an evening tea. Would he also have tried to get his way out of trouble by getting his uncles to bid for him. Was it possible for him to have aunts who dotted over him because he was their nephew and their sister’s sweet little boy, and not because they wanted to be in his good books to get his hand, and fortune, in marriage for their daughters, or to get into his fathers good side to get favours.

He exhaled, letting out a shaky breath, the lamenting desire for what was impossible to attain was crushing him. This was all suddenly too much for him. He shouldn’t have gone through all these albums in one go. He had always known somewhere deep down that he was lonely, with large missing hollow pieces in his life, but the sudden blatant reminder of just how much he had lost, chilled his insides, the realisation still came as a larger blow than he had expected, than he was ready to take.

He swallowed hard, and tentatively unfolded the parchment with shaking fingers.

He read the first line, and froze, his throat tightening. It was a letter. A letter written by his mother. He felt his insides clenching unpleasantly at the happiness that was radiating out of her words. It was as if he could almost see her smiling openly through the letter, smiling in a way that he had never been lucky enough to witness. And wasn’t that just so sad? That he had never seen his beautiful mother being as happy as she must have been while writing this letter.

He took a deep breath, trying to get his wayward emotions under control, and started reading again.

_Dear Regulus,_

_Hello, little brother! I know this is not how I usually start my letters, but I just can’t help it. And no! Its not some imposter trying to send you fake letters, you paranoid. Its me, your amazing sister, Narcissa. I know. You must be wondering as to why I sound like an uncultured school girl, but Regulus, can you blame me!? Do you know what happened today?! Ok, ok I’ll stop stalling, and tell you. So, today the healer came to do a regular check up on me, because I have been feeling tired and unsettled for the last few days. And you know what she said? She said that I am pregnant! I am about to become a mother! And you’ll be Uncle Reggie soon! I am so excited! Merlin! Can you imagine? I am about to have a real baby? Oh, it’ll be so small and tiny and I just can’t wait for it to come out already. Lucius will be delighted! I haven’t told him yet, he wasn’t home when the healer came. He’ll return from the meeting in the evening. And that’s a good thing. I’ll have enough time to plan on how to break the news to him! Oh! He would be so happy!_

_I have already started looking up for best nursery designs, but I just can’t decide which one would be the best choice for the littlest Malfoy. I don’t know its favourite colour yet. How do you find out the favourite colour of your baby, anyway? Oh my God!! I have so much work to do! I still have to read each and every book on maternity and babies. What if I am not a good mother, Regulus? What if it doesn’t like me? I already love my little baby so much, I don’t think I would be able to bear the idea of my baby not liking me._

_I am so excited to see how our baby will look like. I hope it takes after Lucius if its a boy. He’ll be such a heartbreaker with Lucius’s charming and handsome face. And I hope it takes after me if its a girl, she’ll have every boy dancing around her. But it won’t really matter to me if its any other way, because I know my baby will be the most precious thing in the world._

_I have already started looking up for baby names. Do you think I should go with the Black tradition and name it after a star or a constellation? Or do you think I should go with the Malfoy family tradition and name it after Greek gods and goddesses? I already have a few names in my mind. Draco Lucius, if its boy, and Lyra Cornelia if its a girl. Do tell me if you have better suggestions._

_And I almost forgot to mention. Regulus, would you like to be the God father to my first born? I would really like that, and I know Lucius would agree with me on this. I know its not something I should be asking in a letter but I just couldn’t wait to tell you. I just had to tell someone. And I wanted to tell you face to face. Just to see your expression. You really do look comical when you are surprised. Its just so adorable to watch you splutter and stammer, that It will never seize to amuse me. Don’t scoff, I know you are. And I also know that you would be just as excited for your nephew’s arrival as I am, when you read this letter. I know you have a soft spot for all little things, especially kids. But as I was saying, I wanted to tell you face to face, and I flooed to your house too, but Aunt Walburga told me that you haven’t returned home for the last few days, and that you haven’t told her anything before leaving, and that she thinks you are on some top secret mission. Initially I thought I would just wait for you to return, but I can’t hold it in anymore. So I am writing this letter now, and then I’ll wait. If you aren’t back before I lose my patience then I would send this letter to you. But then, don’t complain and get all pouty if you are the last one to know about your god child. Its not my fault that you are away from me for so long. And don’t even deny that you pout like a baby, because you do, just like Sirius. Remember how Sirius always got grumpy when you said that my hair was prettier than his. It was hilarious, and you always enjoyed teasing him so much for that. Well...those were good times, weren’t they?_

_I know you always say that you don’t miss your brother, but you cannot fool me, Regulus. I know Sirius means a lot to you, and you are just angry that he didn’t choose you over his ideals. And trust me when I say, that I understand. I know what you are going through. We have both lost our role models, haven’t we? I understand how it feels like to suddenly lose someone you have grown up with. I miss Andy too. I would have loved for her to be here with me at a time like this. And I know you want Sirius with you as well. I miss him too, you know, he was just so lively, so energetic, all the time when he wasn’t around his parents, and he used to make everything in the world seem so exciting, like everything is nothing but an adventure to explore. And I always felt so daring whenever he was around, as if nothing was impossible. Who knew that all his daring would one day take him away from us? Now though, It feels like it was a different world all together, doesn’t it? A world where we were all just together and carefree, and only had to worry about our hair and our favourite dessert._

_Well...I have a feeling that, one way or the other, this will all be over soon. And I really hope that it does, before we lose anymore people who are dear to us. Honestly, at this point I just want my baby to grow up in a place which is not in the middle of a war. And I know you would just scowl at this, but even Lucius knows that you want it over soon. We both can see that you are not taking your death eater duties very well, and we know you want out of this mess. And we are worried about you, Regulus. Not because we are scared that you would defect, but because we are scared to even fathom the consequences if someone found out that you aren’t as enthusiastic about being a death eater as you pretend._

_And don’t worry, I’ll charm this letter to hide its content from prying eyes before I send it._

_But, Reggie, do be careful. I don’t want to lose you too. Andromeda hasn’t even replied to my letter. I wrote to her, telling her about the baby, hoping that she would at least soften a little and reply, but I am still waiting. I think she is still angry over how our family abandoned her. And can you blame her? Remember how mother and father slammed the door in her face when she came to get their blessings for her daughter. It broke my heart to see tears in her eyes as she left. I wanted to stop her, I really did, but I just didn’t have the courage to do it. Was this how you felt when Sirius ran away? That helpless cowardly feeling of not being able to stop him, hold him back and tell him not to leave. God, I felt awful. I think she is paying me back for being such a coward and not standing up for her at that time. I hope she forgives me though. Maybe when all this is over we can have them back. It would take a little convincing, and lots of yelling, but maybe we can get our families back. I hope that happens, and before one of them leaves us forever. I am especially scared about Sirius. That man is so damn reckless, bloody idiot doesn’t have a single ounce of self preservation left in him. Andromeda and her family is in hiding for now, as far as I know. But Sirius, he is fighting left and right. Just last week Lucius saw him in one of the raids. It was pretty nasty, and the whole place was a duelling arena between the Aurors and the Death Eaters. And Sirius, just won’t budge, he just wasn’t ready to leave the fight and run for his life like the other ministry men. He stayed in the field till the end with only a few other colleagues, before collapsing under the effect of a curse. But then the raid was called off. It was a close call but our idiot brother is fine, or that’s what Lucius told me. He said that he heard it from their new spy, who is rather close to the core members of the team who are trying to resist the dark lord. I hope Lucius is right about Sirius’s well being. Although I do wish that our dear brother and Lucius don’t come face to face again, I don’t think I would be able to live with the idea of either of them killing the other one in a cross fire._

_But enough with this depressing topic. On a happier note, I wanted to know, when are you getting married? I know you are just 18, and still have a lot of time to decide upon who would be the lucky girl, but hurry up, will you? I want my baby to have a bunch of cousins to play with. Oh, it would be lovely to see them all running around the gardens in the manor, don’t you think?_

_I think that’s enough for today. I am rather busy. I still need to contact the best toy stores in Europe. I want everything to be perfect before the little one is here, and I only have a few months left._

_You better prepare yourself to take up the role of a god father, because I won’t take no for an answer. After all, I do need someone to teach my little one how to become the best seeker the Slytherin team has every seen, isn’t it?_

_Lots of love_

_Narcissa_

A single tear dropped on the parchment, smearing the ink in its wake. Draco hastily wiped his eyes with his trembling fingers and swallowed the lump in his throat.

Merlin! And all these years he had been under the illusion that his family had made it out of the war in one piece, now it didn’t seem like that, though. Far from it. And God! Is this what the war has cost his mother? A lively and courageous brother who never stepped down in a battle until he fell, a sister who was so dedicated and loyal that she had left everything for her husband, a loving and faithful Regulus who was going through hell and pretending to be a death eater at the age of 18 in order to preserve his family’s name and honour?

Is this what the war had cost him, without him even realizing it? A godfather, who would have taught him how to fly, who would have told him stories about his time in the Slytherin house. Who would have rushed after him, just like Harry’s father, as he rode his toy broom while his parents laughed in the back ground.

Is this what he had lost? A cousin who would have made him feel like everything is possible in the world, who would have taught him that it was okay to break rules and just be yourself for a while. Who would have known how to have fun even in the most mundane moments of his life.

And he can’t even begin to describe how much he was already missing that name less, faceless daughter of aunt Andromeda. What was she like now? Did she look like his mother? Would Draco be able to recognise her if he ever saw her? Would she recognize him? Did she even know that she had a cousin brother somewhere, or did Aunt Andy never tell her about him or the Malfoys? Would she stop and talk to him if they ever crossed paths? Or would she just ignore him, like aunt Andy ignored the news of his arrival?

He sniffed, and exhaled loudly around the lump in his throat, before looking back at the parchment, wondering why this letter was never posted.

Then his stomach dropped, as if someone had drenched him in icy cold water.

Because there, written at the end of the letter, just below his mother’s signature, was the date:

_25th November, 1979._

The letter was written just a day before Regulus Black’s death was announced.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Please! Please! Please! !
> 
> LEAVE YOUR COMMENTS AND REVIEWS!
> 
> because I really don't know how you people will react to this chapter. So please let me know how you feel about it?  
> I just really feel that this was something that should have been there in the books, because sirius and regulus lost a lot more than we realise. And even Draco has lost so much without even knowing. And i really wanted to add this part to the story as it was important for the charecter development. But...
> 
> Also JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER ABOUT HARRY AND THEN DRACO WILL BE AT HOGWARTS, YIPPIIYY!!


	9. Reassurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a light chapter after all the angst...  
> Family love and fluff...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/ygXR2WROSsY
> 
> Please watch this video if you already haven't. It's short and lovely and has crux of James and sirius' friendship. 
> 
> HAPPY READING!!!

Sirius opened the door to his ancestral home, warning Harry about Walburga’s portrait in the hallway as they entered.

Harry gaped at the cold and gaunt house, feeling revolted by the severed house elf heads that were adorning the walls of the dark passage way. He recoiled when his foot collided with an umbrella stand made out of a troll’s leg, which looked far too real for his liking. “God! This place is--”

“Horrible, I know,” Sirius said, as they entered the kitchen.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Harry started to apologise, only for Sirius to wave it off with a, “Nah, I hate it too. We can bitch about it together."

Harry frowned, wondering if his assumptions about Sirius’s nasty childhood were true. He chose not to comment on it, and watched as Sirius rummaged through the overhead cabinets of the kitchen, all the while muttering under his breath about useless house elves.

Finally, Sirius pulled out a cookie jar, which was full of muggle money, and threw it at Remus, who caught it with ease.

“Our regular, or Harry’s favourite?” Remus asked, fishing out some muggle money from the jar.

Both adults looked at Harry, questioningly, waiting for his answer.

Harry blinked, suddenly realising that Sirius and Remus would actually consider his choice and would do things his way. This was again one of those moments where he was hit with the realisation that he had guardians who actually cared for him, without any ulterior motives, and would never try to take control of his life. He shuffled from foot to foot before asking softly, “C- can we...can we have pizza, today?”

Sirius whooped, “Sure, pup! Pizza it is, then.”

Harry smiled, feeling warmth bubble up inside him. _Maybe the rest of the holidays wouldn’t be that bad without the Weasleys_ , he thought.

He yawned widely, covering it with his hand, which got Remus’s attention, who had been taking notes of whatever they wanted as pizza toppings.

“Oh, and Harry,” Remus said, as he shrugged off his cloak in favour of a muggle friendly jumper, “second floor—last door on the right...that’s our, er, Sirius’ room. I’m sorry, but you’ll have share it with us for today--it’s the only one we have cleaned up yet. We’ll set a room for you once we are all rested, yeah? Is that okay with you?”

Harry nodded.

“Brilliant,” said Remus, “Freshen up a bit while I go get our pizzas.” He turned to Sirius, who had dived back into the lower cabinets, and asked, “Do you need something?”

“No,” Sirius replied, not looking up from the cabinet, “just get those muggle pain killers on your way back, would you?”

“Sure,” said Remus, before he slipped out of the kitchen, then out of the house.

“Aha! Found it!” exclaimed Sirius, as he straightened up, holding a box in his hand. “Alright, champ, lets fix you up.”

Harry followed Sirius up the stairs, listening carefully as Sirius warned him about the dark artefacts that he had yet to throw away, and nasty little house elf that can kill him in his sleep, and sadistic portraits that took great pleasure in inflicting emotional distress. Harry snickered, knowing fully well that Sirius was being his usual dramatic self, and was only trying to cheer him up after what had happened at the Weasleys. Although, Harry still made sure to avoid looking at the portraits of the Black ancestors that sneered and scowled at them on their way.

Harry stared, wide eyed, as they entered Sirius’s bedroom; it was huge; with thick carpeted floor and exotic velvet wallpapers, along with dark mahogany furniture, and an antique chandelier just above the large king sized four poster bed, which had silk curtains. The bed was in the centre of the wall opposite to the door, and was flanked with nightstands on both sides, which were made of the same dark wood. Large airy windows with window-seats were on either sides of the bed, covered with heavy velvet curtains, which were pulled back to let the fresh air and morning sunlight in. There was a blazing fireplace on the wall to Harry’s right, with a plush armchair and a small coffee table placed in front of it. On the wall, to Harry’s left, was a door, which led to a rich walk-in closet, and next to it was another door that led to the bathroom. To the right side of the bedroom-door, was a large study table, with a stiff wing backed chair, made of fine leather. A few book shelves aligned the wall right next to the fireplace.

The room would have looked stiff, elegant, and uncomfortable but, instead, it looked like a room belonging to a randy teenager. The doors were all covered with bright yellow muggle ‘do not disturb’ posters, the walls were filled with rugged Gryffindor banners, which clashed horribly with the otherwise traditional theme of the room. Posters of sports cars and vintage motor-cycles were adorning the walls, along with many photographs of the marauders from their school days, which Harry vowed to see properly once he had caught up on his sleep. There was a comfortable looking, football patterned pouf in front of the fireplace, and Harry got an inkling feeling that Sirius had done all this only to piss off his parents. But he wasn’t complaining, the room felt amazing, and so very...Sirius. It just screamed Sirius Black all over the place. The posh traditional wizarding decor was covered with all these muggle contraptions, just like Sirius had shed his traditional robes in favour of rebellious denims and leather jackets.

Harry could see a bit of Remus in the room too. Books and quills were scattered around the table and nightstands, along with chocolate wrappers and tea cups, that were lying near the window seats. Remus’s woollen jumper was draped across the arm chair. His presence was subtle, but still so obvious. Harry could easily imagine Remus comfortably curled up on the armchair with a book in his hand, reading by the fire and nibbling at his extra sweet chocolate and sipping his extra bitter coffee, while Sirius chilled out on that pouf and smoked while staring into the fire.

Harry wondered what kind of room Remus and Sirius would arrange for him.

He watched as Sirius hastily collected adult magazines and cigarette packets from the drawers of the study table and the nightstands before locking them away in his cupboard, safely out of Harry’s reach.

It wasn’t like Sirius didn’t trust Harry; he just didn’t want to tempt or encourage a teenager into adopting his dirty habits by leaving his cigarettes in plain sight.

Harry was then dragged to the pouf by the fireplace. He plopped on it, and Sirius sat crossed legged on the floor in front of him, placing Harry’s foot on his lap, holding him by the ankle.

Sirius opened the box he had been carrying, revealing an assortment of various healing potions and band aids and muggle medicines, making Harry curious as to why Sirius would have such a stocked first aid kit at home.

Harry watched, fascinated, as Sirius applied some kind of cool salve on his knees, making the bruise lighter and lighter, until it vanished.

“Uh...dad?” he said tentatively, after a while of watching Sirius working diligently on his wounds.

Sirius paused, still not quite used to being addressed like that, but resumed applying the salve on Harry’s other knee after a moment. “Hmm?” he hummed without looking up.

“Why don’t you just...you know...spell it better?” Harry asked. He knew thst Sirius knew many healing spells and could get this done within minutes if he wanted to.

Sirius’ brows furrowed as he tried to find a reasonable answer, “I’m not really... comfortable... with pointing my wand at you—or Remus—or you know...” He waved his free hand in a vague gesture, as if to say ‘ _people who’d have mattered if they’d been alive’,_ “I mostly avoid it if I can...” he shrugged. Then looked up, “Would you prefer it the other way?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together.

Harry shook his head, “Was just curious,” he mumbled, realising how stupid the question was, because even _he_ was uncomfortable with pointing his wand at people he cared for. It felt like pointing a gun at someone, and it ran the risk of fatal accidents. He sometimes forgot that wands were as much as a weapon for wizards as it was a need.

He watched as Sirius continued tending to his wounds; cleaning them, then applying potions or salves on them as his forehead creased up in concentration and his hands remained ever so gentle.

This was new for Harry. Madam Pomfrey was clinical and apathetic when she treated him, after all, she was a trained professional. And Aunt Petunia didn’t care; as long as he didn’t ruin his clothes, she was completely fine with neglecting his injuries. Sirius though, was a totally different story; he faltered, and cringed, and winced whenever Harry showed any sign of discomfort, as if it pained him to see Harry hurt, even in the slightest.

Once all the bodily injuries were healed, Sirius finished by sticking a small cartooned band aid on Harry’s cheek, over the tiny cut which he had gotten from Mrs. Weasley’s ring, from when she had slapped him. It seemed like a very important job—to paste the cartooned band aid, that is; which had little paw prints made on it.

Harry would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t so amused—Sirius and his obsession with dogs.

Harry had soon realised that Sirius had a funny way of looking at things. One minute, he would be doing something really serious and grave, but then he would add something comical to it: like making puns in the most unsavoury of situations or when Remus is talking about something really important. He insisted on going overboard with everything, doing it with flair and drama and antics. According to him, if life was fucked up, then we should make sure that it was ‘ _Royally fucked up_ ’, and if you were broken, then you should be ‘ _beautifully broken_ ’.

Harry’s lips twitched, as he watched Sirius taking his sweet time in making sure that the band aid was in proper alignment with his cheekbone. Sirius turned it this way and that, his brows furrowed in concentration, and his eyes narrowed; one would think that his life depended on that band-aid.

“How did you get this?” Harry whispered softly, tracing the tiny, almost negligible, but deep scar at the corner of Sirius’ left eyebrow.

Sirius’s eyes flicked to Harry’s hand, which was touching his eyebrow, before he turned away to shuffle through the box, his expression not giving anything away. “Courtesy of my mother,” he said dryly, “Charming women.”

“Why would she—?”

“So, this boy,” Sirius cut in, changing the subject and acting as if Harry hadn’t said anything; and Harry let him, realising that pushing Sirius into talking about his childhood was futile. “Beautiful, eh?”

Harry blushed, “Yes,” he said defiantly, his voice oddly high pitched, challenging Sirius to make fun of him, “So what? One should appreciate beauty when they see it.”

“Oh, is that so?” Sirius teased, cocking an eyebrow, “I don’t see men casually calling other men, beautiful,” he said, feigning innocence, “I must have missed it.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, they should,” he said petulantly, “And you are one to talk; Remus calls you beautiful all the time.”

“But Harry!” Sirius gasped, clutching his chest in mock offence, “that’s because I am beautiful...I am dazzling, and one would’ve to be stupid to not admire it, and Remus is quite the intellectual, if I say so myself.”

“And you two aren’t men?”

“You wound me, Mr. Potter,” said Sirius, looking scandalised, “Remus is a werewolf, and I am a magnificent piece of art. How could you?” he wiped fake tears from his eyes, and sniffed, “How could you compare us to mere mortals?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “of course, how dare I? Pardon my insolence, your highness,” he said dramatically, going along. When Sirius put his nose in the air and gave an approving nod, Harry declared. “You are the goddess of the moor.”

“The stars and the moon,” Sirius rhymed in a sing song voice. They gave each other a grave look before bursting into fits of laughter, tension easing out of them. Sirius cleared his throat, “But really though, if there is something...you know, like that...you can talk to me about it.”

Harry shifted, uncomfortably, feeling his cheeks heat up, “Um...I don’t know...I’ve never really...er...thought about it,” he mumbled.

“You can think about it, now,” Sirius pointed out, giving Harry a rueful smile, as he patted the teenager’s arm comfortingly. “You are growing up, and it’s time you start enjoying your life like a normal teenager, or at least _try_ to. Go for dates, flirt a bit, have fun...experiment—fall in love. And, if you need advice...well...you know you have the best person to come to.”

“You mean, you?” Harry asked.

“No, I meant Remus.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “I thought you were the dating type.”

“Yes, but, it’s Remus who managed to charm the most handsome specimen in Britain, so...” Sirius shrugged.

Harry snorted, softly, “And here I thought you were being modest.”

“What use is false modesty, anyway?” He winked at Harry, giving him a wry grin. “But that’s not the point. What I mean is: it’s time you found out what you prefer.”

Harry bit his lip anxiously, “Yeah, I guess...but...is it...I mean, it is okay if I am...if I am gay—not that I am,” he added quickly, “But, will it be...normal...” he trailed off when he saw the look on Sirius’ face.

Sirius frowned, “You think we aren’t normal?”

“No! Wait-no, I didn’t...I mean yes-I mean,” Harry stopped, getting flustered now. He took a deep breath, and tried again, “I mean, I am fine with you and Remus being together, really, and I think you two are great together but...I don’t know,” he said, miserably, Dropping his head and staring at his lap, “what would others say...how will they react if...”

“Ah,” Understanding dawned on Sirius. “You are worried about how your friends would react, aren’t you?” he asked, but it was more of a statement rather than a question. “Don’t worry about it. Wizarding world is rather acceptable in that regard,” he said casually, waving off Harry’s concerns, “Gender has rarely ever been an issue in the magical community—you see how wizarding sports and other things aren’t divided between male and female. In fact, same sex marriages have been occurring in the wizarding world since ages. And the fact that there are magical means for such couples to have heirs is only an added bonus.”

“Really?” asked Harry, shocked; he really needed to learn more about wizarding cultures.

Sirius nodded, “yes,” then he added softly, “And even if that hadn’t been the case, we would still have supported you, kiddo.”

Harry gave him a small tremulous smile, still not reassured, but feeling a little better and touched.

“But, anyway,” Sirius continued, “I can give you books if you want—they’ll help you figure out certain things...clear out terms, and stuff like that... And you can always talk to us if you have any problem... Although,” he paused, his brows furrowing slightly, “I think, Remus would be a better option to talk about stuff like this--”

“Hold on!” said Harry, “did you just pass on the job of giving me ‘The Talk’ to Remus?”

Sirius grinned, sheepishly, “I don’t know, did I?”

Harry huffed, hoping that he didn’t look as red as a tomato. But, he was glad that Sirius wasn’t up to the task; he really didn’t want ‘the talk’ from Sirius, or Remus, for that matter, thank you very much. And they were going to have sex education classes at Hogwarts this year, anyway.

He looked down at his lap, wriggling his fingers, feeling anxious, as a thought occurred to him, “What would they say?” he asked in a small voice, “mum and dad...if...if they’d have been here...would they’ve--?”

“James?” Sirius laughed, “Nah, he would’ve been cool with it, and lily would’ve supported you, no matter what.”

Harry’s face brightened, “You think so?”

“I know so,” Sirius said, earnestly.

“How?” Harry asked, feeling uncertain, “I mean...I can imagine mum being okay with it, but...” he chewed the inside of his cheek, feeling nervous, “dad on the other hand...” he trailed off.

Sirius looked at him shrewdly, catching on his anxiety. He sighed, “You know...if it helps...I was his first kiss,” he said slowly.

“What?” Harry squeaked. When Sirius nodded, he spluttered, “How—wh—why...I mean, no offence to you, but I thought—”

Sirius laughed, as Harry struggled to string a coherent sentence, “It was my first kiss too, you know. It was—what?—sixth year?—no. Fifth year, yes. It was after his first match as the Quidditch captain... Gryffindor had had a spectacular win...And we were all partying in the common room, and he was so high on his victory that he just...just grabbed me and...” Sirius shrugged, with a wistful smile on his face, “Remus’ face was priceless—he avoided us for a week after that. At least his jealousy gave me the confirmation I needed. Before that, I never thought I had a chance with him.”

“And then, what? Dad was okay with it? What did he do after--?”

“After he kissed me?” Sirius finished for Harry, “partied, of course. Who can regret kissing me? I think, he even flaunted that he was my first kiss to the whole school.”

Harry puffed out his cheeks in exasperation, “It’s not funny, I am being serio—” he stopped, when he saw the mischievous look on Sirius’s face, and groaned, “can you not...?”

Sirius gave him a toothy grin, “No, really, though, I am being serious—”

Harry glared.

“—alright fine, I won’t joke, but he really _was_ cool with it, and he really _did_ just party after that. We both knew that we had too much bromance between us for anything, but he was fine with what happened. _And_ —” he paused for dramatic effect, “—I was his second kiss, too,” he added.

“Okay, wait, what?” This was too much for Harry to take in, “I thought he liked mum.”

Sirius nodded, “He liked her so much that he fretted about their first date for days, worrying about how she won’t like him because he was clumsy and inexperienced and didn’t even know how to kiss. I finally got annoyed from all the whining, and just...taught him.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and he just stared at Sirius, trying to decide whether the image of his father and godfather kissing was amusing or disturbing. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe it, but...it wasn’t that surprising, now that he thought about it, although, it was still quite surreal. And Bizarre.

“And-and Remus was okay with it?”

“Of course he wasn’t okay with all the whining either, that’s why he thanked me for getting James to shut up.”

“No, I didn’t mean...I wasn’t asking about—urghh,” Harry pulled at his hair in frustration, “Forget it.”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to forget it too, the kiss, that is,” Sirius muttered, “I mean, I thought he was exaggerating when he said that he didn’t know how to do it, but he really was bad at it when we started, awful really...he was one difficult student to teach...And he used to do this thing with his toung—”

“Oh my god! Please stop!” Harry covered his ears, “too much information, there... I really don’t want the mental image!”

“But you should really be thanking me, Harry,” Sirius said, solemnly, as he struggled not to laugh, “if it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t be here. I don’t think James would have been able to impress Lily without my expert guidance and practical lessons,” he said haughtily, as he flicked his hair out of his eyes, which were brimming with mirth and humour.

Harry gaped, holding his head in his hands, his face burning. He really wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or just die out of embarrassment. And the way Sirius’ shoulders shook from poorly concealed laughter, was a clear sign that he was thoroughly enjoying taking the piss out of Harry.

Harry groaned, trying to look annoyed and put off, but he soon ended up laughing too, his stomach hurting, and tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks, “You-you know...I thought you two—you and dad...I thought you two were play boys or something,” Harry commented, feeling slightly breathless as his laughter slowly died down, “The way you talk about him—it’s rather surprising that you two had your first kiss at the age of 15, and that too with each other.”

Sirius snorted, “A lot of people were surprised. But you know...how looks can be deceiving. We were both brought up in old pureblood families; and even if the Potters weren’t like the Blacks, they were still traditional people, with rules and values.

“But mostly it was because, half the time people thought that we were dating—James and I. And as surreal as it was-- to believe that I would ever date a guy with hair resembling a bird’s nest--we went along with it.”

“Why?” Harry asked, intrigued.

“Because, it kept all the fan girls at bay, as no one wanted to come between us, scared of our wrath. Also, they thought it was impossible to have the popular, hotshot, sports jock for themselves if he was dating the prettiest, sexiest, and the most stunning queen to ever walk down the Hogwarts corridors.”

“You mean, mum, right?”

“No, I was talking about me,” Sirius dead panned, “but mostly, we went along with it because it was funny.”

“So, how long did it go?” Harry asked, “this act of yours.”

Sirius gave a dramatic sigh, “Until it back fired.” When Harry only gave him a mystified look, he continued, “ _well_ , it was all fun and game, until we realised that Lily and Remus also thought that we were dating, and then they got pissed off from us whenever we tried to make a move on them, because they thought that we were openly cheating on our significant other and had the nerve to ask them out, when the whole school knew that James Potter and Sirius Black were an item.”

“But you weren’t?” Harry asked.

“of course, we weren’t,” Sirius confirmed, “And you won’t believe what Lily and Remus did to get back on us. They spread rumours that they were dating each other, and people believed it, because those two really did spend a lot of time studying together, or talking about muggle stuff, about which we didn’t have any clue, and they even bitched about us together. Can you believe it? And to top it all, they would get everyone’s attention whenever we tried to talk to them, and soon the entire school started giving us nasty looks, thinking that we were cheating on each other and also trying to break up Lily and Remus, while those two just watched us being thrown out of the library or other such gatherings like homeless puppies, and laughed.”

“You are joking!” Harry exclaimed, wide eyed.

“Trust me, I’m not. Everyone just thought that it was me and James who were the overpowering ones, when actually, it was Remus who was the true hard core marauder. _Boy_...” he breathed, “we both turned into cowering wet dogs when Remus got pissed off.” Sirius shuddered, then waved his hand dismissively, “But what I was trying to say was: James would have been cool with it, really, so don’t worry, and just follow your heart, okay, pup?” he said, patting Harry’s chest gently, just over his heart. “And, really, Harry! James was the first boy in many generations in his family who married a muggle-born, befriended a werewolf, and practically adopted me, even when his parents initially had some reservations about me, because I was a Black—a family full of dark wizards. And he did all of that, when a war was rising...when people were more prejudiced than ever...and tensions were running high.

“And you _really_ think, that he would’ve thought anything less of you, just because you didn’t prefer girls, or loved someone he didn’t approve of? Not at all, pup.” he said earnestly, his voice softing as he took Harry’s face into his large hands, and peered into his startling green eyes. “Give him some credit, Harry. He would’ve never, _ever_ stopped loving you, or turned his back on you, no matter what. _Believe me._ ”

Harry nodded, his throat constricting from the rush of emotions that swirled through his chest. He swallowed audibly and gave Sirius a shaky smile, which Sirius returned before going back to putting away the medical supplies.

Harry relaxed a little, he wasn’t sure about his preference yet, but his eyes had travelled to Cedric and Oliver far more than what was strictly necessary, and now that he knew that it was okay to like guys too, he would be able to think about it more freely, and without worrying about what others would say. He just hoped that Sirius was right, and people really wouldn’t look down upon him if his preferences weren’t....well, at least he knew that people who mattered the most would be there for him, no matter what.

“You know,” Harry said casually, as they waited for Remus to come back from his errand, “I never took you as someone for healing.”

“Me neither,” Sirius replied, “But what can one possibly do when they have some stupid friends like mine. Remus _hated_ going to the hospital wing after the full moon, and James was always a bit careless when it came to his own health.”

Sirius' eyes travelled to the photographs on the wall, “it went on like that for a while...we tried to reason with Remus, but he was...well, he can be very stubborn when he wants to be— he thought we didn’t understand how difficult and humiliating it was for him—and maybe we didn’t, but that doesn’t mean he could simply skip medical attention because he was ashamed of his condition.. _.it was infuriating,_ ” he roiled. “And then, after a particularly nasty full moon, the reality came crashing down on us. Remus had come back all bloody-- more than usual--and then he...he collapsed and—” his breath caught in his throat as he struggled to keep him voice even, “--he wasn’t responding...we tried everything but he just won’t wake up, and...there was just so much blood! We didn’t know what to do! James was on the verge of hysteria, and Peter was a crying mess. And by the time we reached the hospital wing, almost the entire Gryffindor house knew that something has happened!” Sirius rubbed his hands over his face; and if Harry noticed that his hands were trembling, he didn’t comment on it.

“It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life; the severity of his condition, and helplessness of the situation shook me to the core,” Sirius said, when he was sure that his voice won’t waver, “to keep his secret safe, we spread a story about him getting injured in an accident in a friendly duel that got out of hand. James took the blame, because he knew that the backlash would be too harsh if a Black had done that, and I would’ve been in too much trouble with my family. But even if the staff members knew the truth; the last few weeks of the term weren’t easy for James. You know how wild and cruel rumours can be sometimes, and people who were jealous of him took the opportunity to drag his name through mud!” he said, agitatedly; then pulled Remus’ Jumper from the armchair. He stared at it as it covered his lap, and started fiddling with a loose piece of lint, not even noticing that he was doing it, as he continued, “Soon, all the taunts and whispering started getting on James’ nerves, and Remus was suddenly the latest gossip item in the school and he hated it! Remus started blaming himself for the mess we had all landed up in...and thought that we were better off without him...and avoided us as much as he could. It was only a matter of time before everything blew up, and then it _did_ blow up. We had a huge row over it, and things were said—shouted, more like—hurtful things, and the fact that we knew exactly which buttons to push to rile each other up, just made things even more ugly.”

Sirius’ jaw clenched as he glared at the jumper in his lap, “That summer holidays, I read every single book I could get my hands on—about cursed wounds, creature related injuries, and how to heal them. ...” he said, his fists clenching and unclenching into the thick fabric, “I continued reading about them as much as I could—even after we returned for the new school year. James and Peter helped me nick supplies from the hospital wing, and lily helped with potions...we made, bought, stole...whatever we could do to make sure we had everything.” A soft smile appeared on his lips, “Remus didn’t have an excuse after that. He finally gave in.” Pride was evident in his voice as he said it. “It was difficult at first, but soon I got the hang of it, but it also made me uncomfortable. It was then that I understood why healers aren’t allowed to treat their family and all...it’s scary. But...we did what we had to do, I suppose.”

Harry listened quietly, pulling his legs up on the pouf and wrapping his arms around his knees. He liked listening about his parents, especially from Sirius and Remus, as he got a better and more personal view of them. It felt nice to know them as real people, who loved and cared and laughed and played, who had flaws and fights and weren’t perfect. When others talked about his parents, it felt like they were talking about some character from a history book—accomplished and legendary, or falsely glorified. But this, however, felt nice...more real.

Although, now, seeing that the topic had clearly got Sirius’ distressed, he regretted bringing it up, but he didn’t know if he should interrupt him or not, so he chose to stay silent and listen.

“And it helped me with my Auror training,” Sirius said lightly, leaning back on his hands as he stretched his legs in front of him, in a more relaxed posture, “first aid...curses...emergency mitigation...stealth, and stuff like that... you know,” he said, looking at Harry.

“Hmm,” Harry said softly, resting his chin on his knees and wriggling his toes, as he stared at Sirius, his eyes unfocused.

He knew that part. Sirius was one of those very few people who got inducted into the Auror training Programme in their first attempt and managed to finish it in one go, without any fallouts. Hermione had done quite a research on him last year when they still thought that Sirius was after Harry’s life. Sometimes, Harry wished he could be as brilliant and smart as his godfather.

“James was another story though,” Sirius said, bringing Harry back from his reprieve, “he had this misconception that his problems weren’t worth any consideration. Of course, at first I though he was simply too proud to show any weakness...but later, I realised what was going on...”

“And what was it, that was going on?” Harry asked quietly.

Sirius' eyes travelled to the photographs again, “I think, he always felt responsible for us. He had money, family, status...and all his friends lacked one thing or the other. People always called him privileged. I think he started believing it—that he had no right to feel upset or bothered, because everyone said he had everything in his life. It’s sad, isn’t it?” he asked to no-one in particular. “How easily people start measuring happiness with wealth and fame...passing out judgments on who deserves to be happy, and who deserves care...”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered, remembering how Ron always taunted him about how lucky he was to have all the money and attention; how he was always expected to be happy and strong and at his best, just because he didn’t manage to die with his parents. Everyone thought that Harry had the most wonderful life imaginable, which was the biggest lie of the decade.

Sirius glanced at him, “That’s what happened with James, too,” he said, continuing from where he had left. “He would brush off his worries and always smile...pretend as if nothing was wrong. He thought his problems were too small, and that he should stop thinking about himself and help us.” A sad smile crept across his face.

“He used to stay up all night doing his homework because he had been too busy with taking care of Remus after a full moon, only to submit it under Remus’ name the next day. He used to take the blame for me, because he knew my parents would be really mad at me if word got to them. And then, if ever, he got into a fight with his father over something—he just waved it off, and pretended that he was fine. He finished all his revisions earlier so that he could help Peter with his...He tucked us all in bed, and made sure I was asleep, before he went to bed himself. Whenever I had nightmares, he was always there within seconds. He talked to me, listened to me, distracted me...or sometimes—when he had had tiring Quidditch practices—he simply let me creep into his bed.

“He fussed over me whenever I came back late at night—completely wasted--,then scolded me for being so careless, before going all the way down to the potions classroom to nick a hangover draught for me. He carried Remus’ books around and made sure that he didn’t skip meals during the week before the full moon.

“And he never complained; sometimes he could almost fool us all into thinking that nothing really ever affected him, which was a total lie. James had his own insecurities and demons, everyone does. It’s just that...somewhere along the line, in pretending that he was strong and reliable for us, he really did forget about looking after himself,” he said wanly. Then smiled, “Remus always complained that James was such a mother sometimes.” He frowned, “Although, I never understood the reference back then.”

And the way he said it, in such a casually honest and matter-of-factly tone, that Harry had no doubt about Sirius having an abusive family as a kid; And it made Harry feel sick to his stomach. He swallowed the bile that was rising up his throat, and tried to look unperturbed as he asked, in a poor attempt to lighten the mood, “Yeah? And who was the father?”

Sirius chuckled softly, “Lily, of course! She was always able to stop us from doing something stupid, simply with a look. And we were hell scared of her finding out about whatever mischief we were up to.”

Harry snickered, “And what were you?”

Sirius laughed, “Me? I was the obnoxious child that always got into trouble, but was too cute to stay annoyed with. And Remus! He was like that quiet and sincere child that could do know wrong in other's eyes, but was the actual devil from inside.”

Sirius exhaled, “Those days were amazing—Lily was amazing; she was smart, and fun, and stubborn, and fierce, and fair...just like you,” he said softly. Looking at Harry, he added, “so much like, you. And James...he's the best person that I’ve ever come across. It’s been thirteen years, Harry...and still a day doesn’t go by when I don’t miss your dad.”

Harry’s face fell, and he looked away. His eyes prickled and watered as he stared into the blazing fire, as silence descended over them.

“Something bothering you, pup?” asked Sirius, concern etched across his face. “Are you still hurting somewhere?”

Harry shook his head, “No,” but didn’t meet Sirius’s eyes.

“Harry?” he said softly, “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

Harry nodded, “Yes, but—” he broke off, not sure how to say it, he wasn’t even sure _why_ it was bothering him so much, “It’s okay, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. It’s stupid, anyway.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you,” Sirius said, as he edged forward and tipped Harry’s chin with his fingers to make him look into his earnest eyes, “Hey...” he said softly, “It’s okay, pup, I won’t judge you, I promise.”

“It’s just—” Harry broke off, and Sirius waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. “It’s just...everyone says I am so much like my father—you say that too—but I..I don’t know...I am just...scared...” he looked away, not wanting Sirius to see his moist eyes. God, what was wrong with him, he was fourteen for fucks sake! He shouldn’t be crying over some stupid insecurities like this.

Sirius cocked his head, not quite understanding, “But, that’s true though. I mean, you are a lot like your parents and—” he hesitated when he saw Harry tensing up. He frowned, “What’s there to be scared of?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to upset Harry further.

Harry forced himself to meet those concerned grey eyes, and said, “I know, but it’s just...I mean, everyone says I am so much like my parents—so much like my father, and I like it, I do, I really do. I mean, I know that they were amazing, and really skilled, and really kind, and that it’s a good thing that people compare me with my father but—” he closed his eyes and forced himself to speak, “What if people are just seeing what they want to see--that they are always just trying to see my parents in me and I am not—what if I am not like them?!—what if I am not as good as them or—” he broke off; taking in a shuddering breath, he opened his eyes to see that Sirius was frowning at him, a mixture of concern and anger on his face. Harry averted his gaze, not wanting to see the fury in those cold steely eyes.

“Harry? Where’s this coming from?”

Harry could almost hear the controlled anger through the coldness in Sirius’ voice.

“Harry, look at me.” His tone was softer this time, but that didn’t reassure Harry and he curled up a little tighter into himself.

There was sigh from Sirius, and Harry’s eyes widened for a mini second , shocked, before he was suddenly pulled down from the pouf and on the floor. He tensed up and shut his eyes tightly, but was surprised when he felt strong arms wrap around him as Sirius hugged him close. An elegant hand cradled the side of his head and guided it until his cheek was resting against Sirius chest. Harry relaxed when he felt Sirius stroking his hair, gently carding his long fingers through his thick black locks. His cheeks burned from humiliation and embarrassment when he realised that he was practically sitting on his god father’s lap, but the warmth and comfort radiating out of the older man’s body felt too good to let go, so he tentatively wrapped his hands around Sirius’ torso and closed his eyes, sagging into the embrace, and breathing into the rich scent of old leather, mixed with the crisp fragrance of ash and Sirius’ woody cologne.

There was silence for a while, only filled by the cackling of fire and the soft sounds of their breathing, as Sirius continued to brush Harry’s hair, who had his eyes closed and was listening to the soothing rhythmic thud of his godfather’s heartbeat. Harry felt so safe and content in that moment, with his cheek resting against Sirius’ chest and using him like a pillow, that he almost forgot about their earlier conversation.

When Sirius spoke again, he sounded calmer. “Respect is true when its earned, Harry, and affection is true when it’s given freely. You know that, don’t you?”

Harry blinked, but didn’t reply, not sure where this was going, but Sirius continued anyway, “So when people—when Remus and I—compare you to James or Lily, we always mean it as a compliment, and I think you know that too. But, pup, that doesn’t mean that you are not free to be yourself. Because, at the end of the day, you are neither James nor lily—you are _Harry_. And you are free to be whosoever you want to be. And I am _so_ sorry,” he added, sounding really guilty, “I really didn’t realise that we were burdening you, or setting some standards for you to meet. I promise I won’t do it again, and you can tell me off if I ever repeat it, okay?” Harry nodded meekly, and Sirius continued in a soothing tone, choosing each word carefully, “I don’t know what brought this up, and I don’t know what made you feel so insecure. But I promise that we love you, and that won’t change if you aren’t like your parents, okay?”

Harry pulled back, just a little, so that he could look at Sirius’ face and make sure that he wasn’t lying simply to make him feel better, “Really?” he couldn’t stop the childish question.

Sirius face softened as he looked into those hopeful, innocent eyes, “Really,” he confirmed, “like I said: affection should be given freely.” And Harry went back to his original position, comfortably resting against Sirius. “And if you have any doubts in your mind, then let me tell you, Harry, that you are a _wonderful_ kid, and you will grow up to be a _wonderful_ man, and you have all my respect, and Remus’ too. And that’s not because you’re James’ son, or that you are a lot like a him, but it’s because of those other things that are purely and solely yours. And you don’t need to worry about living up to anyone’s expectations, except yours, okay?” He kissed the top of Harry’s head, and ruffled his hair when he nodded. “And if anyone tells you otherwise, then they can go fu—er--I mean—well, you know what I mean,” he finished lamely, and Harry smiled, although Sirius couldn’t see it.

“And anyway, I think I would be the last person to tell you to blindly follow anyone, even if we are talking about your parents. As long you are happy and safe, and kind and honest, and not doing things that could hurt you or others, then I don’t care about anything else.” He sighed, as he rubbed Harry’s back soothingly. God! But how did Remus manage to always stay calm and say the right things to reassure people. It was a little difficult and tiring for Sirius as he wasn’t the kind to talk about feelings much, nor was he good at consoling. But he was determined to ease Harry’s worries, even if it riled him up to think about what must have made Harry feel so insecure about himself. Just how bad were the Dursleys and Harry’s years at Hogwarts? He pushed down his anger for now, and focused on his pup. “Every parent wants to see a bit of themselves in their kids, but that doesn’t mean that they should expect their kids to be exactly like them, that way the child will never be able to think for themselves. And, this applies to you, too.” He said wisely. But when Harry only nodded uncertainly, he decided to change his tactics.

“Your father was a great man, Harry,” he started slowly, wondering just how smug James would have been to hear him sprouting his praises like this. “He was kind and considerate, and brave and loving. He was smart and intelligent and funny...he played pranks, and helped the firsties find their way around the castle. He was responsible and caring and always stood for what he believed was right. But... if you think that he was a saint, then let me tell you that you are highly mistaken. James was stupid, and oblivious sometimes. He said wrong things and jumped to conclusions which lead to fights. He was a little arrogant and conceited; and even though he never thought that people were beneath him, it never stopped him from believing that he was the best and could achieve anything he set his eyes on, which was a good thing when you see it as someone trying to score well in exams, or win a game, but he forgot that, in real life and with real people, he couldn’t always have everything he wanted, and he had to learn the truth the hard way, thanks to Lily. And even if our pranks were not harmful, but they offended, or sometimes even humiliated others and I am not proud of it, and neither was he when he realised what kind of a git he was being. He helped his juniors, sure, but he also tripped people in the corridors for fun. He was responsible, yes; but that hadn’t been the case from the beginning. He only started taking responsibilities for his actions when he saw the errors of his ways, and also when he took me in—”

“Took you in?” Harry asked, confused, pulling back a little to look at Sirius.

“Yes,” said Sirius, as he guided Harry’s head back to where it was resting against him, “Now don’t interrupt me again, or I’ll lose the flow. It’s difficult as it is,” he mumbled, good-naturedly, under his breath, making Harry grin. “Yeah, so, where was I? Yeah. After my fifth year I ran away from home and—”

“You ran away?” Harry exclaimed, “Why? Where did you go?” he asked, pulling back again. Sirius glared, but Harry knew there was no heat behind it, so he buried his face against his god father’s—or dad's, as he liked to call him these days—chest and sighed before mumbling, “Okay, sorry, continue.”

Sirius smiled fondly, “Good. So, yeah, when I ran away from this house after my fifth year, the Potters practically adopted me. Your grandparents were nice people, and always pampered and dotted over me—” here Harry suppressed a snort of amusement, and deliberately ignored thinking about why Sirius would run away from his own house. He didn’t want to spoil Sirius’ mood by bringing it up. And It soothed his guilt to know that his grandparents had welcomed Sirius, as he himself couldn’t do anything to make things better for the older man. Harry hugged him a little tighter, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind as he continued his rambling, “—and as I said earlier, James always felt responsible for us, and I think that’s when he started changing and growing up. A lot of people think that he changed for Lily, but James wasn’t the kind of a guy who'd change himself to impress someone, even if it did impress Lily later, as she was able to see past his arrogant facade. But, the truth was...he felt like he had to set a good example for me—that’s what ...that's what brothers do, as Mrs. Potter put it.” Sirius was getting a little choked up, it had been too long since he had poured his heart out to someone. He cleared his throat and carried on, “So yeah, James had his flaws too, like everyone else. And he made mistakes too, like everyone else. That’s what makes us all humans, Harry. And as long as you realise your mistakes and work on rectifying them, and are true to yourself, then there’s nothing for you to be worried about, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry replied quietly. “So, I am not a substitute for my father, right?”

Sirius’ hand froze and there was a beat silence. He bristled, although Harry couldn’t see it, “I should’ve known,” he said through gritted teeth, “it’s about what that Weasley women said, isn’t it? About you being a child, and not my friend to go on adventures with?”

Harry squirmed, guiltily, but nodded, “Yeah,” he said, his voice just above a whisper as he waited with baited breath for Sirius’ reaction. “Are you mad at me?”

Sirius sighed heavily. “No,” he said , “No to both. Although, I am really mad at her for saying that.” He resumed brushing Harry’s hair, “you are very special, Champ, and you are no-one’s substitute. And I’ll be honest—it does help that you are here, and it does fill in the empty space, but that doesn’t mean you are a substitute, just like you calling me dad doesn’t make me a substitute for James.” He paused, “Am I making any sense?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. And it did make sense if Harry thought about it. Seeing Sirius in the role of a father eased his pain from the loss of his parents, but that didn’t make Sirius a substitute for James; it was just that, Sirius was there and was doing his best and was filling in the empty space in his own way, and Harry loved him, anyway. And it worked the other way around too; Harry was very much like his parents, and it must be good to have him around, but that didn’t make him a substitute. He was just there in his own way, and Sirius and Remus loved him for it.

He smiled, _it felt good to know that someone loved him._

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” asked Sirius.

“No?” Harry said it as more of a question rather than an answer.

Sirius exhaled, “Thank Merlin! I don’t think I’d have been able to continue—I had enough sentimental talks today to last a life time,” he said tiredly, but not accusingly. 

Harry sighed, and closed his eyes, all his doubts washed away for now. “Dad?” he said sleepily, and his heart fluttered when Sirius didn’t go rigid this time at being addressed like that.

“Hmm?”

“I never took you for the snuggly type.”

“Well, I _did_ name myself snuffles, so....I guess that explains it, doesn’t it?”

No it didn’t explain anything, but Harry wasn’t complaining...

******  
The scene that met Remus when he opened the door to Sirius’ room had his heart melting.

Sirius was sprawled on the floor, his upper body leaning against the pouf, and Harry was curled up on his lap with his head resting on his chest. They were both sound asleep, with Sirius’ fingers threaded through Harry's hair.

Remus put down all the pizza boxes and ice-cream buckets and coke bottles on the study table, and put them under a statis charm, before making his way towards the two most important people in his life.

He sank to his knees and just watched, his heart swelling at the sight—they looked so peaceful, calm and carefree.

He caressed Sirius’ cheek with his knuckles, and Sirius tensed up, his hold tightened around Harry.

“Shh...it’s just me,” Remus whispered and Sirius relaxed and went back to sleep, his grip going slack again.

Remus shook his head and kissed Sirius' temple, before kissing the top of Harry’s head.

He got up and stretched, as he looked around the room. Sirius’ favourite ice-cream was out of stock and so he had spent his entire morning looking for it. Thankfully his efforts didn’t go in vain. But it meant that he had returned late, and now Harry was sleeping like a rock, and waking him up would be a bad idea as he looked pretty exhausted.

He sighed and quickly transfigured the armchair into a comfortable single bed, before conjuring mattress, pillows and blankets for Harry. After making sure that they were comfortable, he scooped Harry up in his arms, who groaned and mumbled in his sleep but didn’t wake up, and tucked him in the bed. Once Harry’s clothes were transfigured into something more comfortable and his wand and shoes were removed, Remus' eyes landed on something silver near Harry’s ear.

He frowned--Harry wasn’t wearing an ear cuff the other day when they met him. He removed it, careful not to wake Harry up, and cast a few diagnostic and revealing spells on it.

His frown deepened. The ear-piece had a lot of magic, and what was more troubling was that, it was ancient and sentient. He wasn’t sure if it was a dark artefact, but that wasn’t really reassuring.

Maybe he should ask Sirius about it, and wait for when Harry is awake to tell him how he got it.

After making sure that there was enough food for Harry, and putting it under a stronger statis charm next to his bedside, he woke Sirius up.

They wolfed down their food, talking here and there as they ate. When Remus asked what they did when he was gone, Sirius simply shrugged and said that they talked. But Remus wasn’t fooled. There was something lighter about Sirius, more relaxed, as if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Whatever it was, Remus wasn’t going to pry. He knew that Harry and Sirius were doing wonders for each other’s emotional health, and his too. He felt a sense of belonging that he had thought he’d never be able to feel again, but now he could feel that calm settling on him. And he was sure that Sirius was feeling it too, maybe he wasn’t realising it, but Remus was sure that he was feeling it. The spark that had been absent from those grey eyes was slowly returning, and Remus didn’t miss the radiant smile on his lover’s face. Not to mention, that Harry’s presence was giving them a sense of purpose in their lives, making it look more meaningful, and it was having a really positive impact on both of them. Sirius felt more anchored around them, which was a welcoming change after feeling lost for so long, and Remus felt free and more energetic these days.

He smiled as he took a sip of his coke and listened to Sirius talking amicably about nothing in particular.

 _Yes, Harry was really good for them_ , Remus decided. They weren’t the most conventional family, but they could make it work...together.

Once they were finished, Remus asked Sirius to check Harry’s ear cuff; He came up with the same result too—strong and sentient magic, but nothing dark or harmful. So they decided to let it be for now, agreeing that they would keep a close eye on it, just in case.

While Remus went to take a shower, Sirius found a suitable wand holster for Harry: it was made of rich black leather and had silver clasps in the shape of little dragons, it was also self concealing and had a permanent remember-me charm on it. It was perfect: cool and classy, and Harry would always remember to wear it.

An hour later found Remus and Sirius in bed and in each other’s arms. They were fully clothed, since Harry was sleeping right across the room, and they didn’t want him to see them in any state of undress, even by accident. Sirius’ head was resting on Remus’ chest, while Remus drew lazy circles on Sirius’ back.

“Harry is a nice kid, isn’t he?” Sirius whispered as he played with a botton on Remus' pyjama top, “I mean...despite everything he has been through, he has turned out to be pretty amazing.”

“Yeah,” Remus breathed, staring at the cealing. “And you have done a great job with him this summer. He looks really happy,” he said, as he turned around to face Sirius, his hand cupping Sirius' neck and his thumb stroking the other man's jaw.

Sirius melted into the touch, “Nah, It was all him. But who can blame him? With such a king for a god father, he is bound to be fabulous.”

Remus snorted softly, “But you are a Queen,” he whispered, as his arm slipped around Sirius’ waist to pull him close.

“Even better,” Sirius whispered back, sounding a little breathless as Remus nuzzled his neck and nipped at his earlobe lightly, and trailed soft kisses down his neck, then across his jaw, before finally capturing his lips in a slow, sensual kiss. Sirius parted his lips, allowing Remus to slip his tongue inside his hot mouth, and pulled Remus closer by the collar of his pyjama shirt, his fingers burying into those soft honey strands, before curling into fists at the back of Remus’ head.

Remus moaned, his hand slipping under Sirius’ shirt to reach his warm creamy-soft skin, before sliding up his hips, then his torso,  and feeling those hard muscles rippling under his fingers. God! Remus had missed this so much!

Soon, they parted for air, panting and heaving from the lack of oxygen. But Remus continued trailing opened mouthed kisses down Sirius’ neck and his collar, as he felt nails digging into his back. He licked and nipped and bit every inch of skin he could reach without actually giving into the impulse of stripping Sirius naked. Jesus! But Sirius really had no idea just how much Remus had craved for him all these years, how lucky he felt to have this gorgeous man writhing and trembling under him. It still shocked him that Sirius Black, who could bring anyone down to their knees if he wanted, actually loved him and wanted him, with all his flaws and scars. The novelty of having Sirius for himself was never lost to him, and never would. There was no way in hell that Remus would ever get enough of Sirius, even if he had this man for more than a lifetime.

Slowly and slowly, their heated kisses turned more lazy and less demanding, before finally turning chaste, as he reluctantly pulled back with a last peck on Sirius’ lips. He buried his face in the crook of Sirius’ neck, breathing into his soft scent, while he waited for his body to calm down. He felt the press of soft lips against his temple as long fingers brushed his hair. And that simple gesture sent shivers down his spine. 

“The first thing we'll do when we wake up, is to get Harry his own room,” he mumbled against Sirius’ skin, his breathing still a little shallow, and his heart racing a thousand miles per hour. 

"Definetly,” Sirius murmured hoarsely. _He couldn't wait to have Remus all to himself._

Soon sleep engulfed them, and for the first time in a while, Remus didn’t feel cold, and Sirius didn’t have any nightmares.

****

  
Miles away in Malfoy Manor, Draco smirked as he finished reading his letter from School. He has been shortlisted from Beauxbatons to compete for the post of ‘Student representative for International magical co-operation’.

When Draco had found out about the Tri-wizard tournament from his father, he had decided that he wouldn’t miss it for anything. But there were two little problems which were coming in his way. One: that the ministry had introduced an age bar for security reasons. And Two: his father was least interested in sending him to Hogwarts, which meant that Draco wouldn’t be getting any help from there.

But Draco wasn’t a Malfoy for nothing. And if he wanted to be a part of this tournament, then he would bloody well be.

So, he may, or may not, have casually commented that it was rather pathetic that a tournament for students had no representation from the student body itself. Surely, the ministry realised how important it was to have a student representative in the administrative body of the tournament, seeing that it was students who compeated and interacted in the event.

His father had, of course, agreed and, just as Draco had predicted, forwarded the idea to the ministry itself.

And Fudge, who practically worshipped father, had instantly demanded a committee to be set up to select the right candidate for the post.

But of course, nothing went as smooth as it was planned. Now all the schools wanted the representative to be from their own school, but the post would be given to only one person, so now the selection committee had officials from all three participating schools, which meant more competition, and fair competition.

The heads of the three participating schools were supposed to shortlist candidates to compete for the post as there was no time to examine each and every interested student. After which the shortlisted students would apply for the office, and then go through a long procedure of written aptitude tests and interviews to finally get the post. All this had made the post even more desirable, as it would be a huge advantage to have it in ones resume. Any ministry would love to hire someone who had beaten the best students from, not only one, but three schools.

The only good thing was that, NEWT students (or its equivalents) weren’t allowed to apply, as it would really cut short on their study time, which none of the schools wanted. So basically, now Draco had to get his way by trashing down the best ( 14 and 15 year old) students from three prestigious schools.

Of course, no-one else knew that it was Draco who had triggered the idea. All the other students would only get a letter explaining the selection procedure and relevant forms, at least he had a head start here.

And he has just now received a letter telling him that he has been shortlisted from his school. Good. Now all he had to do was study his arse off and rock these aptitude tests and interviews.

Well...he hadn’t endured through all those extra tutoring sessions as a child, while all his peers played, for nothing. It’s high time he used his extra knowledge in law, history and language.

He smirked, as he folded the letter and tucked it away safely in Harry’s coat pocket. If he got the post, then his father would be too proud of him to refuse.

He brushed his fringes out his eyes and winked at himself in the mirror...Hogwarts wouldn’t even know what hit it.

Now he just needed to write a letter to Shambhavi and hint that Beauxbaton would really need their own journalist to accompany them to Hogwarts to report all the events of the tournament. After all, it was important for their year book.

And a letter for Blaise, too. Let the Slytherins know that their exiled prince might be coming to claim his kingdom...

 

 


	10. Holiday Heavens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late update. i was busy with college admissions. And now the new city is and living away from home is giving me anxiety. and i don't have any new happy fluffy drarry fics to lift my mood. please help me!!!
> 
> anyway back to the chapter, this is the last filler chapter with details and in the next chapter we will be straight at hogwarts with Draco. fucking finally. 
> 
> enjoy reading!!

Chapter 10

Holiday heavens

The first thing Sirius, Remus and Harry did after they were fed and well rested, was to get rid of Kreacher. Freeing him was not an option, as the vengeful house elf would jeopardize Sirius’s safety. Remus found the solution: he wrote a long order, making sure to cover every loop hole so that Kreacher would not be able to give away their secrets, or do anything that would compromise their safety. Sirius recited the order to Kreacher before sending him away to work at Hogwarts. That ensured that Kreacher was away, but still happily bonded. But after that they were short of a house elf, and making Grimmauld Place habitable was a mammoth task for three messy male wizards, and they were in an urgent need to get things In motion as full moon was right around the corner.

Harry, remembering that Dobby wanted to work at a place where he would get paid and still remain free, suggested it to the adults, who immediately agreed, as they weren’t averse to the idea of a free and paid elf working for them, as long as he was trustworthy.

And if Harry forgot to point out that it was Dobby who broke his arm in second year, in some way at least, then no one can blame him.

Dobby was elated when Harry told him about it, even more so when he realised that he would be working for Harry’s family.

Sirius had immediately taken a liking for the little elf and his atrocious fashion sense. Those two were each other’s biggest fans, and Sirius loved playing dress up with Dobby; which basically involved Sirius dressing him up, and giving light and sound effects in the background as Dobby strutted on the dining table in Walburga’s high heels.

But with Dobby’s help they made a quick work of cleaning the old town house. And it was relatively safe to work, as Remus and Sirius had already removed the nasty curses from within the house when they had warded the place earlier.

Very soon the house was free of the thick layer of dirt and grim that had accumulated on the walls in the last decade. It still looked a little dreary due to the old furnishing, but at least it wasn’t stinking anymore.

Harry soon realized that living with Sirius and Remus was…interesting. And rather enlightening.

Apparently, Remus swore like a sailor and had the most vulgar vocabulary; so much so that, the old lady who lived a few blocks away, still blushed bright red whenever she saw him when he took snuffles out for a walk. Harry had no clue what she must have heard Remus say, but from the looks of it, it didn’t seem anything suitable for polite company.

Snuffles loved walks…and children…and everything _dog…_ even sex positions. Yeah…Harry knew _that._ He came across that piece  of information when he had the misfortune of walking on his godfathers when they were fucking like bunnies…or dogs. _Eww…_

At least they decided to keep their activities restrained to their own room after that, instead of just having a go at any flat surface they could find. Harry was thankful for that, as it prevented unsuspecting innocent teenagers, like him, from becoming a victim to their very wild, and very live, pornography.

Harry also realized that Remus was way more bitter and hardcore than he let on. Sirius was right…the man was devil in pajamas. 

 Sirius, however…was more like a puppy, soft, cuddly, playful, sweet, and well…really hyper active.

But they had one thing in common, they were both amazing to cuddle. They were so comforting and calm and warm…

Sometimes, All three of them stayed up late into the night, talking, with hot chocolates in their hands, and a warm blanket wrapped around their shoulders, as they huddle together on the couch in the living room. And later fell asleep there itself, before any one could be wiser. 

It was fun.

Harry also got his own room. There was a shining silver name plate, with _Harry James Potter_ spelled on it in black ink outside his door too, just like all the other rooms. And Harry always traced his name with his fingers whenever he passed through the door; it was his very first room after all. The very first room which was totally his; not a hand me down, or a shared one, but his. And the novelty of it still wasn’t lost to him.

Harry had initially wanted the room that was right across Sirius’s, the one which had some Regulus black’s name on it, simply because it was right across his god father’s room, but one look at Remus had told him that it was a bad idea. And he was right. Although Sirius didn’t say anything on the matter, he looked oddly relieved when Harry took another room--which was next to Sirius’s—instead of Regulus’s. Harry wondered about the identity of this person, but never dared to ask Sirius about it. The name seemed like a Taboo.

One day, when Harry couldn’t stomach his curiosity, he  broached the subject with Remus when Sirius was out of ear shot.

Remus looked at him solemnly, before sighing, “It’s better if you forget about it, Harry,” he said quietly, putting down his coffee mug. He looked sadly at Sirius, who was washing the dished across the kitchen and whistling softly to the tune of weird sister’s latest album. “It’s one of those topics which have the potential to hurt.” He patted Harry’s shoulder, giving him a wan smile before going over to Sirius and wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist from behind and kissing his neck.

Harry never mentioned that name again. He was still curious about Regulus Black, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting any answers out of either of them, so he decided to let it go, for now.

 

Harry also heard some of the most bizarre conversations. Like…

 

“Sirius Orion Black!” Remus’s voice rang down the hall way. “ Where the fuck are your pants!?...No! _it’s not funny_!... _No_! not even if it’s to annoy the portraits… _for merlin’s sake padfoot_ we have a child in this house!…cover your bits or I’ll hex them into tiny wrinkled resins!!... _Yes! they’ll still be edible_!”

 

Or things like…

 

“ _Sirius_!!!” Remus shouted in a sing song voice.

“ _Yes!!’_

_“Where are my chocolates?!”_

_“uhhhh…”_ there was a pause. Then lots of shuffling, “ _Why do you need them?”_

_“Where. Are. My. Chocolates?!!!”_

_“_ I…” Sirius squeaked, “I forgot!”

“You,” Remus said calmly, smoothing down the front of his sweater, “forgot.”

 Harry whistled lightly. Someone was in huge trouble. Sirius had insisted on going to get the groceries earlier that day, seems like he forgot to bring the  most important article that was their on the list.

 “Now…what will I eat?” Remus said in a low voice, threateningly, and Harry prayed for Sirius’s life.

 Silence.

Sirius laughed nervously, “Uh…You can eat me?”

Harry tsked at Sirius’s suggestive tone. Did the man have a death wish? He counted till three:… _one…two…_

_Crash_

“Bloody hell, Moony! I Could have—“ _Crash “_ —Stop throwing things at me, Danm it!”—BOOM—"FINE! _I am sorry! I am sorry! Oh My god!!—”_

Sirius’s voice was cut off as Harry placed a silencing charm on his door. He clicked his tongue at his guardian’s antics and went back to reading the book on healing that Sirius had given him from the Black library. Sirius had looked at Harry suspiciously when Harry had shown interest in the more advanced healing spells, but hadn’t questioned him about it. Harry loved learning, but he wasn’t a book worm like Hermione; he was more of a practical person and avoided books if he could gather the same knowledge through other means, and Sirius knew that. What he did not know, was that Harry was determined to learn painless methods of healing due to a certain blond whose pained cries still haunted Harry’s mind, fueled his nightmares, and chilled his chest to the point that it ached.

Harry closed the book, and sighed. His brain was too full of knowledge at the moment to learn anymore spells. He got up from his study table, stretching his knotted muscles, and made a bee line for his large four poster bed.

Changing into his pajamas, he flopped back on the bed, above the covers, and stared at the starry sky above him. Remus had found a way to charm his room’s ceiling just like the ceiling of the great hall at Hogwarts.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, his scar was burning more than usual today. He had had constant bouts of headache ever since the world cup, but even that scale was  crossed today. He contemplated talking to Sirius about it, but decided against it when he realized that he would get extremely worried.

He exhaled heavily and got under the covers. Maybe he should try getting some sleep.

He stared at the sky again, but this time he was looking for one particular constellation.

  _Draco_.

The name still had something stirring inside him, like an eager baby bird, fluttering its wings in excitement and waiting to be set free.

Harry raised his hand and traced the patters of the stars with his fingers, as if caressing it, and wondered if he would ever get a chance to see Draco again.

D _raco._

Yes, the name was magical.

Soon Harry felt his eyelids getting heavy and sleep engulfed him.

_Draco._

 

 

Next day they went for shopping which was hilarious. They needed a lot of new stuff to renovate the house , or at least make the interior more cheerful. Remus dragged the cart and read out the list while Harry put things into the cart as directed. It was a lot more fun than whenever he went shopping with Aunt Petunia , because Harry was  shopping for himself and not simply acting as a slave who had to carry all the bags. Plus he was allowed to buy things for himself too, something which never happened with the Dursleys.

Sirius went straight to the pet’s section, and winked at Remus suggestively as he placed a fancy dog collar in their cart. Harry raised an eyebrow as Remus coughed and looked away, his face turning bright red.

Sirius thoroughly enjoyed putting all kinds of flashy and ridiculous things in their cart. He also got various art supplies and spray paints for himself. Remus indulged him for a while, but he put his foot down when Sirius insisted on buying mugs with puppies printed  on them.

“But I can charm them to bark and wag their tails,” Sirius pleaded, giving his best puppy dog eyes to Remus. 

“Absolutely not,” said Remus.” I will not have dogs barking every time I eat. I already have you to do that.”

“Please, Moony.”

But Remus didn’t budge, “No.”

Sirius Pouted , “Fine!”

After that Sirius did what he did best, and roamed around Looking pretty , charming people on his way, and drawing sighs and coos from various other female shoppers, making them blush and squirm. Harry caught more than a couple of women reaching for their compacts to adjust their makeup . He also caught a few men consciously running their hands through their hair and adjusting their appearance.

Harry loved the look of surprise on other people’s faces when he called Sirius ‘Dad’. It was almost comical to watch their reaction when Remus slipped a possessive hand around Sirius’s waist and kissed him square on the Lips , all the while glaring at the guy who seemed far too interested in Sirius for Remus’s liking.

All in all , yes, it was hilarious.

Clearing Grimmauld place off all the old , gaudy stuff wasn’t as much fun. In fact, Harry hated the experience. Sirius wanted to throw away everything , from his parents old jewelry to furniture to dark artefacts. Remus clearly disagreed.

“We cannot simply throw it all away. What if they get into the wrong hands. It’s dangerous.”

And Harry couldn’t help but agree with Remus. Sirius still wanted to throw all the antiques though, but Harry convinced him to simply put it all away in his Gringotts vault.

“Both of you don’t have jobs. Just keep it,” Harry suggested.

“I don’t need it,” said Sirius , grimacing as he pulled out another expensive piece  of jewelry from his parent’s cupboard. “I have enough to sustain all three of us.”

“Think about Remus,” Harry whispered so that only Sirius could hear him. “You never know when you’ll need more money. There is no harm in being on the safer side. You can always not use it if you don’t want to, but don’t throw it away just out of spite.”

When Sirius still looked hesitant , Harry sighed, “You can always give it in charity later.”

Finally , Sirius agreed, and Dobby packed all the antiques before delivering if to Gringotts with a deposit request from Sirius.

After that Sirius pulled out a very old looking antique trunk from the attic, “This should help us deal with the Dark artefacts in the house.”

Harry and Remus watched curiously as Sirius opened the trunk with an Incantation. It opened to reveal a bottomless chamber with shelves to keep things in it. According to Sirius , such trunks were typically used by purebloods to carefully pack their magical artefacts. He just had to say a specific code, and the trunk would automatically suck all the dark artefacts from the house and store it safely.

“Let’s just hope that your ear cuffs are not amongst the things that get sucked into it. Or I would have to give the Weasley residence another visit.” Sirius joked, but Harry knew that he would definitely stick to his words if it was proven that the small metallic snake on his ear was dangerous.

Sirius tapped his wand against the Black family crest that was made on the trunk, and soon various magical contraptions came flying towards the trunk from various parts of the house. Luckily, Harry’s accessory was not a part of them.

Just when a few of the last remaining artefacts from the display in the living room were settling into the trunk, Harry gasped.

He doubled over in pain, clutching his head as his scar burned.

“Harry!”

He heard someone shout as his knees buckled and he fell on the floor in a whimpering heap.

Someone, maybe Remus, caught him before he could hurt his head.

He took in a sharp, shuddering breath, and opened his eyes, which he didn’t remember closing in the first place. He was on the floor with Remus and Sirius hovering over him, looking panicked.

His eyes watered from the excruciating pain as blood trickled down his forehead. His vision started to blur as Sirius’s panicked voice faded in the background, replaced by the agonizing scream of his mother just before she died.

Then everything turned black.

**

Harry slowly opened his eyes to find Sirius sitting beside his bed, Harry’s limp hand wedged between his entwined fingers. He was staring into space, his eyes red rimmed. Harry wondered if it was from alcohol or crying.

Remus entered Harry’s room with a bowl full of fruits along with some potion vials and noticed Harry awake.

“Pup!” he exclaimed, rushing into the room.

Sirius’s head whipped around.

Harry tried to sit up and Sirius immediately came to his aid, while Remus adjusted the pillows to make him more comfortable.

“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked, concerned.

“Wha. . . what happened ?” Harry croaked out.

 “Oh Pup.” Sirius hugged Harry tightly, and sniffed, feeling choked up from the amount of relief he felt. “I was so worried.” He pulled away and held Harry’s face in his hands, trying to look for any  signs of pain and discomfort.

Harry smiled softly, trying to reassure him, “I feel fine. Really.” He added when Sirius still looked skeptical.

Sirius nodded, and finally let go, giving Harry some space.

Remus placed the fruit bowl in front of Harry, “eat. “

“What happened to me?” Harry asked again.

“I am not certain,” Remus started slowly, “But I think you reacted badly to a dark artefact. I am not sure which one, but surely one among the many that went into that trunk. I think you collapsed from the pain. What did you feel though?”

Harry bit his lip, “I heard mum again,” he said quietly. “It didn’t feel like a Dementor, but the memory was the same.”

Remus stroked his hair tenderly, “It’s okay, Harry. It happens sometimes. Don’t think about it; we have already sent the trunk to Gringotts.”

Sirius nodded. “You were the youngest in the room, so technically you were the most vulnerable target. Don’t think that it’s got anything to do with you, okay? It’s my fault. I should have told you to leave the room when we were dealing with so much dark magic. It was dangerous. I am sorry.”

Harry shook his head, “It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

After finishing his fruits Harry went back to sleep, only to be woken up by a nightmare a few hours later. He sat up, panting, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

Strong arms embraced him and Harry leaned into the hug, burying his face into the other person’s chest, as he closed his eyes tightly, trying to will away the images of wormtail and Voldemort.

“Shh. . . it’s ok. You are safe.” It was Remus’s voice. He rubbed slow circles on Harry’s back, who was trembling. “shh… it was just a nightmare, Pup. You are safe . . . we are here.”

Harry gulped and tried to breath.

Remus pulled away, and Sirius came into view. He handed a glass of cold water to Harry, then wiped the sweat off Harry’s face with a wet towel as he drank his fill.

“Better?” asked Remus, who was still rubbing Harry’s back.

Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he replied when his breathing returned to somewhat normal and he found his voice.

Harry stared at his lap, feeling embarrassed for acting so weak, not only ones but twice in one day. He kept his eyes downcast, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze as he pulled at the ends of his blanket.

It was silent for a while, then Sirius turned into snuffles and snuggled up to Harry.

Harry looked up in surprise when Remus gently pushed him back to lay down on his bed.

Harry blinked and stared at Remus, then he looked at snuffles furry form.

Remus stroked Harry’s hair and smiled at him, “sleep.”

And Harry did. He relaxed, and soon his breathing evened out as snuffles soft snores and Remus’s gentle cares lulled him to sleep.

 

Harry’s eyes opened one more time at the crack of dawn. Snuffles was still sleeping next to him, like a comforting presence as Harry held him like a teddy bear.

 Turning his head, Harry noticed the form of Remus soundly asleep next to him. A soft smile curled across his lips when he saw that Remus’s fingers were still loosely entwined in his jet black hair.

He fell asleep again, feeling warm and deeply loved.

 

*** 

 

When Harry came down to breakfast, he found Sirius and Remus sitting in the kitchen looking tense. Remus looked tired and resigned. His eyes were dull and the hazel colour of his irises had taken a yellowish hue. He looked skittish and edgy, the wolf inside him getting restless as the full moon was only hours away.

Sirius was sitting next to him, staring out of the window, looking grave. His eyes had taken the colour similar to that of cold steel. He took a large swig of his scotch, his knuckles white from how hard he was clutching the glass.

Remus ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed, “Look Sirius, its ok—”

“No its not,” Sirius hissed, not looking away from the window,  “he has no right. I am going to kill that—”

He was cut off as Remus pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, and lazy, and tired, but just as lovely.

Sirius relaxed into the kiss as his shoulders slumped. He didn’t protest when Remus gently took the glass of scotch from his hand and put it away before proceeding to deepen the kiss, his hand coming up to hold the side of Sirius’s neck, his fingers caressing his jaw.

“Eww.”

They both abruptly broke apart at the sound of Harry, who was standing in the doorway, looking like he had walked into a very disturbing dream. He entered the kitchen, glaring at them, “can’t you two hold it in for one day? It feels like I am watching my parents making out. Its gross.”

Remus smiled, apologetically, “good morning, Harry.”

Harry yawned, “good morning,” he replied, smiling.

“At this point I really don’t know if I want you to leave for Hogwarts or not. You are clearly not good for my health,” Sirius said, pouting, clearly disappointed at being interrupted. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he felt Harry’s forehead with the back of his hand  to check if he still had fever.

“Your Libido, you mean?” Harry teased, batting his hand away. “And I am fine. In fact, I feel Loads better, lighter even. Don’t worry about it,” he reassured, then became sombre, “But what happened to you two? What were you talking about before I came in? Trouble in paradise?”

Immediately the atmosphere changed.

Sirius looked away without answering, and pushed the latest edition of daily prophet towards him, on top of it was a letter, and Harry could see the Hogwarts crest on the top of the parchment. Sirius picked up his unfinished glass of scotch, but Remus caught his wrist.

“You have had enough already,” he said tiredly, gently prying the glass from Sirius’s fingers, and placing it out of his reach. “You are not good at holding your liquor anyway. And I am in no mood to handle you today.”

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but relented when Remus looked at him with those pleading eyes. Sirius was torn between arguing with Remus for implying that he was a light weight, or agreeing with him just to make him feel better. Finally he huffed and relented, not wanting to piss Remus off when full moon was so close.

Harry wondered what got them so worked up and opened the front page of the prophet, immediately spotting the reason for the tension.

The top of the page had the photograph of short, toad faced women, addressing the wizengamot, above which the headline screamed, ‘ _A Step To safety.’_

It was an article about the new bill that the wizengamot was deliberating on, regarding the werewolves’ employment and regulations. Initially Harry thought that it was something good to ensure employment for werewolves, but he soon realised that it was a conspiracy to make sure that they were shunned from every respectable job in the name of safety. He got angrier and angrier as he read on and on about the long discussions. Some arguments were based on pure prejudice and had no basis at all. Some went as far as to stating that a werewolf’s magic is capable of corroding the magic around him, and therefore constant exposure to the presence of one could lead to a wizard going mad.

“This is bullshit!” Harry said vehemently.

Sirius snorted, “tell me about it.”

Harry turned to Remus, “you don’t believe all this rubbish, do you?”

Remus chuckled, “No pup, I am used to all this crap.” He smiled at Harry and reached across the table to ruffle his hair, “but seeing you so indignant on my behalf is refreshing.”

“Hey! I was indignant on your behalf too,” said Sirius, who was now pouring himself a cup of hot chocolate, before adding four spoon fulls of sugar into it.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “So…do you want me to mess up your hair too?”

“Touché,” said Sirius as he handed Remus his black coffee, which could rival alcohol in terms of bitterness. “Maybe later. Then you can mess up my hair all you want. Or maybe more,” he winked.

Harry almost gagged at the choice of drinks which his guardians took, wondering if all the snogging had finally killed their taste buds.

“Do you think this would pass?” Harry asked worriedly, indicating the newspaper.

Sirius put his cup down on the table, and sighed. “Not only will it pass, it will also bring Remus into the negative limelight.’’

“What do you mean?”

“You are just being paranoid.” Remus huffed.

“I am not being paranoid,” Sirius snapped. “Don’t you find it suspicious that they want to pass such a law straight after Snivelous got you kicked out of Hogwarts?”

“He didn’t do anything! I resigned!”

“Yeah, right after Snape let it _slip_ that you are a werewolf to _all_ his students,” Sirius jibed. “how very convenient for him, won’t you agree?”

“All right, You may have a point there, but that still doesn’t mean that my name will come up into something like this! I am not that important, Sirius,” Remus retorted.

“Right,” Sirius said sarcastically. “You keep telling yourself that. Remus, they have every reason to drag your name into this. You are the first recorded werewolf who got admitted in Hogwarts and successfully completed his graduation. You are the first werewolf who became a professor there and taught for a year! For all we know, you might as well be the reason why this whole issue came to light. And let’s not forget that the ministry is already keeping tabs on you because of your association with me!”

“Oh, So it’s my fault now?” Remus said shortly.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Sirius bit out. “They will practically turn you into a pariah,  Remus. You’ll be boycotted.”

“You talk as if that’s not already happening,” Remus retorted.

“Except now it would be considered lawful!”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Sirius! It’s not as if it’s not true . I _am_ dangerous.” Harry opened his mouth to protest but Remus held his hand up to stop him, “No, don’t deny the truth, I endangered students just a few months ago. No matter the situation, my mistakes put lives at risk. And I am not saying that what they are doing is right, but I can’t fault them for trying to protect themselves.”

Sirius slumped in his chair, and growled, “Merlin, if I get my hands on Snape—”

"Drop it, Sirius.” Remus warned .

“But—”

“I said drop it ,” he repeated, a little more forcefully this time. “It’s not as if we can do anything about it anyway. The law hasn’t even passed yet. And We have more urgent things to worry about.”

Suddenly Sirius’s entire demeanour changed and he buried his face in his hands, feeling nauseous. Remus inched a little closer to him and rubbed his back soothingly, before kissing his temple.

Harry stared, “What happened?” he asked, green eyes wide with concern as he looked between the two men.

“I think you should read that letter, Harry,” Remus suggested softly, still rubbing Sirius’s back.

Harry eyed the letter apprehensively, suddenly it looked ominous. Flipping the envelope open, he pulled out the letter to read it.

 

_Sirius_

_I hope this letter finds you well . I am most concerned about your safety and must impress upon the importance of being more careful about going out and revealing yourself to others like you did at the Weasleys . Of course, I totally understand that the circumstances were less than favourable, but it would be better for you and Harry if you avoid such a situation in the future. I know the times are difficult for you, but we both know that you love Harry dearly and would do anything to ensure his safety and happiness. And his happiness lies with you . He will be devastated if he lost his godfather to Dementors in Azkaban. I have, for now, placated Molly and convinced her not to report to the ministry about the recent events. After all, it is my duty to look after the wellbeing of my former students and loyal order members. But I would still suggest that you stay underground for the time being, until things calm down a little further. Molly has, of course, graciously agreed to safeguard your secret and has already forgiven you for what happened at her house. I know you still remember your impeccable manners, and hope that you would return the favour by sending her a winning apology. After all, we do not want our dear Harry to lose his friends over adult disputes, now, do we?_

_Also, to avoid such a situation from arising again, and to save Harry from the insecurity and trauma that comes with it, I have written to the board of governors to consider Harry’s exceptional situation and allow him to stay at Hogwarts during the breaks. Apparently, there is a very obscure clause in the Hogwarts rule book that allows a student to seek the shelter and safety of the school and its Head , if the board sees it fit during excruciating circumstances and  the student lacks a capable caretaker. Of course, Harry’s relatives are more than capable of protecting him behind the blood wards, and the Burrow’s doors are always open for Harry. But, I believe that being under the care of the school would provide him with the much needed stability until he either graduates or comes of age. I wish I had done the same for you in your school days , but I am sure you would agree with me that this is best for Harry, and that we should not repeat our old mistakes._

_Tell Harry not to worry. Hogwarts will only interfere when it comes to his safety and his necessities. Otherwise , Harry is free to spend his time outside the school with you and vice versa._

_I have attached a copy of the official papers that state that Harry has been lawfully recognised as a ward in Hogwarts‘ care. It also states all the responsibilities of the school towards him._

_With Regards_

_Albus_

_PS: Severus and I would be there at 10 am to pick Harry up for Kings cross. I know It would be difficult for Remus to venture out tomorrow._

Harry finished the letter and stared at it for quite a while. He didn’t know what to think of it. On the surface it looked like a very well-wishing one, written by a concerned Headmaster. But there was something off about it. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. If he had received this letter last summer then he would have danced with joy. Now though, he just felt angry and confused. It was as if Dumbledore was trying to guilt Sirius into staying away from Harry. Harry did not miss the constant use of his name as some sort of blackmail material. He was especially angry that such a big decision was taken without consulting him.

“I don’t really understand it,” said Harry, frowning at the parchment and trying to make sense of it.

“It means,” Remus said softly, slowly, “that Dumbledore now has full authority over your guardianship rights. He can stop you from leaving the school grounds in the name of safety. And as long as you are on the school grounds, he will have full say in what you do as he is the head master.”

“B-But he can’t do that,” Harry protested, his voice trembling. “Surely, this is not legal. “

Remus shook his head sadly, “I am afraid it is. Since most of the Board Members are purebloods , they would not consider your muggle guardians competent.  And the school _is_ allowed to—even obliged in some cases—to protect magical children. In their eyes they are helping an orphan, who doesn’t even have an orphanage to go to.”

“B-but what about you? Can‘t I stay with you?” Harry pleaded, feeling scared as to what this would entail.

“legally? No. Not until Dumbledore allows it. And definitely not after that law passes,” he said, glancing at the Prophet.

“But _why_?” Harry cried, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. “Why now?”

“Because no-one challenged Dumbledore’s decisions until now. And I was stupid enough to…by bringing you here I-I…Merlin! I don’t know what to do!” said Sirius, pulling at his hair in frustration. He looked defeated, “He wants your utmost loyalty. Wants you to follow him without question and we are coming in his way and…and—”

“Sirius, love, calm down,” Remus tried to sooth. “Breath. Please.”

“I can’t!” said Sirius in a strangled voice, “wasn’t our lives enough!? Didn’t he have his fair share of playing with us!? Why drag _him_ into this!?”

Remus had no answer for that.

“One wrong move and we will lose Harry,” Sirius said miserably, “and we have no way to take action against it….” He dropped his head on the table with a soft thump.

Harry turned wide tear filled eyes at Remus. “I don’t want to go,” he begged, his bottom lip quivering. “please. I don’t want to lose you. Not so soon. I-I can’ t. I,” he choked on his tears that he was so desperately trying control. He gulped audibly, trying to swallow the huge lump in his throat. “ I—”

“Oh, Pup,” Remus opened his arms and Harry immediately flew into them, clutching him like a life line, as if he would never let go. Remus rocked him back and forth, feeling angry over his own helplessness in consoling Harry. “I am _so_ sorry.”

Suddenly Sirius got up and left the room. Returning with a packet in his hand, he gave it to Harry. “Open it.”

Harry pulled away from Remus and sniffed. He gingerly opened the packet, Revealing an old antique rectangular mirror.

“It’s a two way mirror,” explained Sirius. “James and I used It to communicate during our summers. I have mine, and this one belonged to him. I want you to keep it.

“It’s quicker than an owl and cannot be intercepted,” he explained further. “You just have to say my name and I’ll know that you are calling me. I’ll connect mine to Remus too.”

Harry blinked back his tears and stared at the mirror, tracing the intricate design on the frame with his fingers.

Sirius sank on one knee in front of Harry to get to eye level with him, and placed his hands on Harry’s Shoulders. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry _. I won’t let anyone take you away from us_ – not until it’s what _you_ want. Let Dumbledore think that he had had his way for now and leave the rest to us. Together we will figure something out.”

“Promise?” Harry asked in a small voice, his eyes filled with childlike trust and vulnerability.

Sirius tenderly wiped Harry’s tears. “I Promise,” he said earnestly, squeezing his shoulders for emphasis.

Harry looked over at Remus who smiled and nodded in affirmation. Looking back at Sirius, Harry relaxed and nodded, “okay.”

Sirius brushed Harry’s fringes out of his eyes, “I think you should go to your room and rest—You have had a stressful week, and you are still recovering from what happened yesterday. Maybe read a bit or have Dobby pack your stuff, yeah ?”

Harry gave each of them a quick hug and left the kitchen with his breakfast. He would take it to his room and eat it in the comfort of his bed. He was already feeling exhausted, which was a constant occurrence these days. For now he just wanted to forget everything. Except Draco.

Sirius watched Harry Leave, and dropped his head on Remus’s shoulder. Taking in a deep breath, he  exhaled heavily, “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Remus brought his hand up and cradled the back of Sirius’s head, stroking the fine hair at the nape of his neck. “For some reason, I have a very good feeling about this,” he murmured and kissed his temple.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT  
> Quick polls!!
> 
> Should I continue with the way i write or are the fluffy details making it boring?
> 
> please let me know because due to the emotional suffering I am not able to tell if the chapter is comming out right or not.
> 
> DO LEAVE COMMENTS!!
> 
> next chapter is a time skip to one week before the haloween. yippiii!!!


	11. Boy from Beauxbatons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS! 
> 
> 1) the polls for who should be taller, i realised i didn't share the results. There were more votes for Harry being taller. And i will go with that. I hope u guys like it.
> 
> 2) i wanted to thank you all again sending me so much love and support. It really made my day, and gave me the strength to continue doing what i love, despite the pressure of college. Soo thanks all lot. For all the comments and support and love and fic recs. I love you all. And i hope i could express how much it means to me when i get up and see lovely comments full of support or guesses. Its my favourite part about this fic. 
> 
> 3) i am writting another fan fiction, it will be a werewolf AU. Drarry. But i will be uploading it only when its finished, so that u don't have to wait much, like u wait for this one. What do you think? 
> 
> 4) pls check out my other oneshot if you havn't. Hope you will like it. 
> 
> 5) lastly, i have started an instagram account with the name, @siriuslywolfish you guys can have a look if you are interested. 
> 
> 6) my tellonym is there too.

Harry inhaled the cool air, filled with the essence of pine and fresh rain. He spread his arms wide and threw his head back, letting the soft sunlight of the dawn warm his face as the cold breeze from the lake soothed his nerves. Losing himself in the feel of nature, he let his magic loose, giving it free reign over his body. His mind was clear, and all his senses were filled with the smells and sounds of nature, which seemed to get louder the more he concentrated. He felt a tingling sensation all over his body, needles prickling under his skin as his magic took over. His brows furrowed as he concentrated on his magic, feeling it shift and move upward, towards his head. And then it stopped—

He slowly opened his eyes, and grinned as he saw a small fish, at the far end of the lake, flop out of the water before diving right in. His eyes swivelled, taking in the endless sky, relishing in the feeling of being able to spot the eagle owl far above the lake.  He turned towards the forest and blinked. He could see through the dense darkness, and almost distinguish the different shades of the tree leaves, even see a few creatures he could bet he had never seen before.

It was large, with black leathery skin stretched taut across its structure, giving Harry a clear view of its bones which were protruding out of its skin. But Harry had to agree, the creature looked magnificent with its large bat like wings.

Harry stepped forward. The creature was looking straight at him, as if waiting for him to approach it, challenging even. He took one step, then another, forgetting everything for a moment. He was getting closer, closer, and then—

He tripped over something, sending him sliding across the ground.

 “Shit!” Harry cursed as he wiped the dirt off his cheek with his scarped palm and stood up. He looked back at the forest, but the creature was gone, so were the vibrant colours of the trees, and the eagle, and everything else.

Harry’s vision was  back to normal.

He sighed and picked up his discarded Quidditch gear on which he had just tripped over. Packing his water bottle and dirty towel, Harry made his way back to the castle; breakfast was in an hour and he needed a proper shower anyway. He was stinking from sweat and dirt.

Harry had taken to coming out in the crack of dawn for a fly over the lake and his animagus training, since Dumbledore announced that the Quidditch pitch was off limits due to the preparation for the  tri wizard tournament which would be starting in a week. Even the schools were due to arrive today. Harry was excited. Not only would it be thrilling to witness the tournament, but it would also take the limelight away from him for a while.

And that was one of the reasons why he had to come out for a fly so early in the morning. It was either that, or late at night when the entire castle was sleeping, because Harry’s new looks and his less awkward self, attracted even more attention than before.

It made it very difficult for Harry to exercise and practise in peace as more than ones he had caught a group of giggling students watching him fly and lusting over him. Harry needed his exercise and his animagus training if he had to keep up with the skills he had perfected that summer and the new things he was learning everyday, (Hermione was still deciding whether she should be happy that he had finally started taking his studies seriously, or worried that she now had a new competition). But all the following admirers had made it impossible for him, forcing him to sneak out in the early hours of the morning, before the castle woke up.

He hated getting up so early in the morning though, but at least it was paying. He had finally managed to change his eyes into that of a wolf, and he would soon be able to turn into a wolf himself. Most people who attempted to turn into an animagus took the aid of herbology and potions and moon cycles to get results. But since Harry was doing it the traditional way, which included magical meditation and magical manipulation, he had to try and change every body part one by one before attempting the full transformation. This method required more patience and skills and magical power, and it was longer and tedious, but it was better in the long run, as it made magical control better and the transformation painless. Any day now, and he would be running in the forest.

Two months ago, when he had arrived at Hogwarts, he had been confused and a little irked by the sudden attention he was drawing. Usually the looks he got were awed or jealous or of contempt or of that of hero worship, but this year the looks had turned flirtatious, specially from the senior students. Harry had suddenly found a gaggle of girls giggling whenever he arrived, every now and then someone would flutter their eyelashes at him and ask, or do, something ridiculous, just to get his attention. Many upper year boys had already come to Harry asking for a Quidditch game, or had invited him to their parties or study groups.

He had been a bumbling mess for a few initial weeks, unsure of what to do and how to react. His naive self had even said yes to most of the initiations and advances, not knowing that they were _advances_ in the first place. It was only when a 6 th year had tried to take advantage of him that Hermione had given him a long talk, explaining everything: That he was good looking and attractive and that, along with his personality and reputation, would definitely make people more interested in him, and so he needed to be more careful.

 Not that Harry believed her. Just because some perverts were interested in him, didn’t mean that he was actually desirable for his real self, or was worthy of any real affection. But Hermione’s talk had saved him from unwanted moves from others, and it had also helped him come out to his friends as bisexual. Not that coming out was a concept in the wizarding world, as same sex relationships were as common and accepted as the heterosexual ones.

 Apparently, Sirius had been right, and the wizarding world really didn’t care much about gender when it came to relationships. They were more concerned about magical compatibility, hence the pureblood prejudices, but no homophobia. And Harry was thankful for that.

Entering his dorm, Harry quickly took a shower and got ready for the day. Making sure that his wand holster, watch, wallet and ear cuff were in their place, he ran his hands through his hair, to make them look presentable. They had grown in the last few weeks, but they were still somewhat manageable. But just so. He sighed. He would need a new haircut soon. He fastened his boots and slunk his bag pack over his shoulder before leaving the dorm.

Coming down to the common room, he politely responded to all the hi’s and hello’s directed towards him; Some lustful, some enthusiastic and some friendly. But most of the students ignored him in favour of the latest edition of the Daily Prophet as they gossiped and giggled together, or sometimes even squealed at something in the paper. 

“...Merlin! Did you see that smile...and that wink...”

“...he is so handsome...”

“...they say he would have come to Hogwarts if not for his father...”

“...oh! It would have been wonderful if he had. Do you think he would have been in Griffindor...”

“No. Nott and Parkinson say that they know him. He would have been sorted into Slytherin...”

“...Whatever, I don’t care. I just can’t wait for him to arrive...”

Harry wondered what must be so interesting in the paper that prompted the students to pre order their edition even before the mails arrived at breakfast. But he shrugged it off as some latest Quidditch celebrity gossip and made his way to the great hall.

Entering the great hall, he quickly spotted Neville on his usual seat at their house table and plopped down next to him, “hello, Nev.”

Neville nodded in greeting with a mumbled, “hello,” before going back to his breakfast.

 Harry looked around the table. Sure enough, Ron was there, sitting with Dean and Seamus. Even after two months, their friendship was still quite strained. Harry didn’t know what to do about it.

Ron, instead of getting angry, treated him like he would treat a second year Slytherin. As if Harry didn’t exist, and if by some chance they did land up in close proximity, he would just sneer, make some snide remark, or leave. He didn’t do, or say, anything particularly hurtful, but that was even worse, because it seemed like Harry was just another non-existent snake that the lions simply hated out of principle. It made Harry feel that he had never meant anything to Ron.   

Well, at least, he had Neville. He and Harry have gotten closer in the last couple of months. Mainly because Ron didn’t want to spend time with Harry, and Harry didn’t want to force Hermione into choosing between the two. So Harry mostly stuck with Neville, who was a nice and quite company, and could hold intelligent conversation ones he got comfortable around Harry. He also never questioned Harry, and gave him his much needed space. He also wasn’t demanding, which allowed Harry to deal with all his other obligations, and various invitations that he kept receiving.

Harry noticed how Neville kept glancing at a certain third year Rawenclaw girl, and tried to hide his smile behind his goblet of pumpkin juice. He knew Neville liked the Lovegood girl. Harry has never talked to her, but he was sure she must be a sweetheart if she caught Neville’s eyes.

He was halfway through his breakfast when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, slipping his wand in his hand as he did so, simply out of reflex, but stopped when he saw it was only Ginny.

She beamed at him, pushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear with her fingers. “Hello, Harry.”

“Uh...hello,” said Harry, feeling a little awkward. He was still not sure where he stood for Ginny. He knew Ron was pissed off from him; he knew that Fred and George liked him much more now due to what had happened at The burrow, and maybe also because of Sirius and Remus; he knew that Mr. Weasley still treated him like he used too: he had even patted Harry’s back and wished him luck at the kings cross station before coming to Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley had tried the same, but Harry had given her a cold shoulder, still pissed that he was forced under the headmaster’s control because of her.

He had never been close to Bill and Charlie, so nothing was lost, they mostly treated Harry like they would treat any friend of their brother’s. Ginny though, was still just as persistent with Harry, and not in a way that Harry liked, much. She was a good friend, but sometimes Harry couldn’t understand if she was being truthful to him or not.  She was just too good to Harry to be real. And when Harry couldn’t bring himself to see somebody’s true self, he became wary.

“I picked this up for you,” said Ginny, giving him a letter, “I went to the  owlery and saw it, so I thought maybe I would save you the trouble of going all the way up there, hmm?” she said, looking pleased with herself.

Harry took the letter, ignoring how Ginny’s touch lingered a little too long on his fingers. “uh...thanks, Ginny. But you didn’t have to—”

“Oh, come on, Harry!” she said in a patronizing way, “we are friends, aren’t we? I guess I can do at least _that_ much for you.”

A few girls nearby giggled, while others gave Ginny nasty looks. But she ignored them.   

“No, I didn’t mean that, I was just saying that you didn’t have to go through the trouble because—” just then the mails arrived and hundreds of owls came soring into the hall. Harry looked up and waved in the general direction of the sky “—I would have gotten it here, anyway.”

Ginny blushed, and a few students nearby laughed, before stopping quickly when she glared at them.

Harry gave her an apologetic look, but he was hoping that Ginny would get the hint and stop behaving like a creepy stalker before Harry lost his patience. And besides, he hated people touching his letters, not when some of them were coming from Sirius and Remus. It was dangerous, one wrong move, and he could lose his godfather to Azkaban.

Ginny huffed and nudged Neville to make space for herself next to Harry. But her attempt failed when Hermione slid into the empty seat, slamming the Daily Prophet on table.

“I can’t believe this!” Hermione said angrily, making several people jump.

Ginny tried to get her attention to move her aside, but Hermione already had Harry’s full attention by now. Getting irritated, Ginny stomped her foot, and left for her own seat by her classmates.

“What is it ‘Mione?” Harry asked, curiously. Hermione rarely lost her manners.

“Oh Harry, remember how I told you that I didn’t get selected for the post of student representative?” she said, looking distressed. “Look who got it instead of me. I thought the selections were impartial, but of course not!” her voice turned louder in the end, as her face turned red with anger.

Just then lavender Brown pulled the Prophet out of Hermione’s hand, much to Hermione’s annoyance, and frantically opened it to a page somewhere in the middle, before squealing in delight. “Oh he really _is_ cute.”

She elbowed Parvati, who gasped as she looked at whatever it was that lavender was showing her, “Merlin, look at those titles!”

Seamus edged closer to them to get a better look at the paper and whistled, “seriously Hermione, I don’t think that the judges were biased. I mean really, _look at those titles!”_

Hermione’s nostrils flared, “I will have you know, that I am in no way anything less than Malfoy. This is just pure prejudice!”

“Malfoy?” Harry asked confused, trying really hard to catch up with the conversation.

Hermione ignored him and opened her mouth to continue. But she was interrupted by Neville, who had been quietly observing the scene, “Uh...you know, Hermione, I...uh...sort of agree with Seamus. I mean, I have known Malfoy since I was a kid,” everyone looked at him, surprised. “Not personally, of course,” he added hastily, “but enough to know that he _is_ quite talented. I really can’t think of anyone who would have been better for this job,” he finished meekly, looking really scared of Hermione’s reaction, who looked ready to explode.

And she would have exploded if it hadn’t been for Harry’s interruption, “what is this talk about Malfoy?”

“You don’t know?!” asked Hermione, looking surprised and a little agitated. She turned to Lavender, “give it to me,” she said, trying to snatch the prophet out of Lavender’s hand.

“Not yet,” replied Lavender, clutching on the paper with all her might.

“urghhh...keep the damn photograph. Just give me that article!” Finally Lavender relented and handed over the paper to Hermione after pulling out a page from it, which she continued to admire with her friends.

Hermione took the paper, and spread it on the table, beckoning Harry to come closer and have a look. Harry edged closer to read the article which she was impatiently pointing at with her index finger.

 

**Profile reveal**

**_The Daily Prophet, as promised, brings out to you the profile of D. L. Malfoy, the candidate selected for the most coveted student post of the  century: The student representative for International Magical cooperation._**

 

Harry stopped reading, “Malfoy?! The post has gone to Malfoy? As in, Lucius Malfoy’s _son_ Malfoy?!”

“Yes!” said Hermione, her lips pursed into a thin line, “Go ahead! Read further. See what all bullshit they have written! Bloody lying prejudiced piece of hypocrites.”

Harry nodded, a little unnerved by Hermione’s use of colourful language, and went back to reading.

 

_Name: D. L. Malfoy._

_Candidate number: Beauxbaton906_

_Applied for: The post of student representative for International Magical Cooperation._

_Age: 14_

_Date of birth: June 5 th 1980_

_Father’s name: Lord Lucius Abarax Malfoy (The Most Ancient And Noble House of Malfoy)_

_Academic Performance (British equivalent of French grading system) in the last examination given:_

_Charms: O_

_Transfiguration: O_

_Potions: O_

_Theory of Magic: O_

_History of Magic: O_

_Defence against the Dark arts: E_

_Astronomy: O_

_Ancient Runes: O_

_Elective subjects:_

_Interacting with Magical beings (French equivalent to ‘Care of Magical Creatures’) : O_

_Arithmancy: O_

_Contemporary Magical cultures*: O_

_(* Contemporary Magical culture is a subject that  deals with the study of Magical history, theory, development, politics, myths and traditions of contemporary Magical cultures._

_This subject is exclusively taught in Beauxbaton Academy of Magic._

_The cultures which are taught in this curriculum include:_

_Chinese and Japanese – mythical beings and potions ( and the art of ancient magical medicines)_

_Arabic: music, chants and mines (the study of runes and artifacts)_

_Latin America: the secrets of Amazon (beings, ingredients, potions and herbology), a study of magical ecology_

_Africa: treasures of the dessert (the origin of elemental magic, tribes and cults)_

_North America: (Magical oppression: laws, politics, and interaction with Muggles with reference to Grindewald)_

_India: Vedic and Mughal ( the power of rituals, Ayurveda, magical meditation and manipulations through yoga, and the history of Parsels)._

**_Scores: IMC candidate selection Aptitude  tests ( round wise)_ **

_ Round one (Application review):_

_Academic achievements: Batch topper (rank 1) 1991-1992_

_Batch topper (rank 1) 1992-1993_

_Batch topper (rank 1) 1993-1994_

_Affiliated languages  : English_

_French_

_Italian_

_German_

_Spanish_

_Latin_

_Greek_

_Extra curricular Achievements (and related titles):_

  * _youngest contestant to qualify for the finals of  national duelling league (France) ( age group 11-15)_
  * _Youngest contestant to win national duelling league (France, 1992) age group 11-15._
  * _Youngest wizard to ever have an experimental paper published in the ‘Potions Paragon –1994 edition’, an international potions academic magazine._
  * _Member of Magical confederation of Young wizards (MCW) of France._
  * _Former Player at European Pre Wizarding Quidditch league from 1987-1990 (Team- Cherry wood champions)_
  * _European duelling championship (age category-under 14): Best dueller (Winner- 1993)_



_Review score: 97%_

_ Round two  (Written assessment)  _

_Humanities (magical history, politics and culture: 99/100_

_Magical sciences (potions, herbology and creatures) : 100/100_

_Magical arts (charms, transfiguration and defence): 98/100_

_Magical theories ( runes, astronomy and Arithmancy): 100/100_

_Legal aptitude (international magical laws and treaties): 100/100_

_Total score : 497/500 (99.4%)_

_ Round three (interview/screening):  _

_Categories --_

  * _Confidence_
  * _Deductive skills_
  * _Writing skills_
  * _Problem solving_



_Score: 93.7%_

_ Overall score: ( average mean of all three rounds):   **96.7%** _

_Status: **Selected**_

Harry’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as he read the whole profile. “Well...this is...quite impressive.”

“Impressive?!” Hermione exclaimed, “Impressive?! This is a completely manipulated profile. I can’t believe this! Just because he is Lucius Malfoy’s son—”

“Oh please, Hermione, we all know that you are just jealous,” taunted Lavender.

Hermione spluttered, “I-I am,” she crossed her arms over her chest and replied defensively, “I am not jealous. I am not!” she insisted when Parvati only scoffed. “Fine! Don’t believe me! We all know that the Prophet prints bullshit all the time! Let him come to Hogwarts...when it will be obvious that he has cheated—then don’t come apologizing to me!” She got up from her seat, a determined glint in her eyes. “Come on, Ron! Lets go!” she ordered.

Ron, who had been busy discussing Quidditch with Dean, and never really paid attention to the breakfast table gossip, looked very sad and very confused when Hermione dragged him away from his chicken, and out of the great hall.

Harry watched them go, feeling a little hurt at being left out like that. He sighed. It was his fault anyway. He had been avoiding Hermione so that she didn’t get dragged into this mess he had with Ron. It had seemed like a great idea then, now though, it just made him feel stupid and lonely.

Before he could lament his loss in peace, Ginny slipped into the vacant seat next to him, and started talking about how they could make friends with the exchange students that would be arriving in the evening.

Harry tried really hard to ignore her hand that kept touching him. He just didn’t have it in him to tell Ginny off. He had already lost his appetite.

He looked back at the article.

 D. _L. Malfoy._

_Beauxbatons Academy of Magic_

His heart skipped a beat as he was reminded of another 14 year old who studied in France.

Was it possible that Harry would be able to see Draco? Maybe he would come with the Beauxbaton delegation.

His chest constricted painfully. He knew it was only a wishful thinking. He knew Draco was too young to participate.

He clutched his aching chest, wondering why he suddenly felt so miserable. These random bouts of chest pains had dulled into a negligible ache a few weeks ago, when Harry had busied himself with school work, and had stopped thinking about anything else.

“Harry, are you ok?”

He slowly turned his head and looked at Ginny’s frowning face. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he simply shook his head.

“You look tense,” she said, glancing at the spoon that had bend under Harry’s death grip.

Harry loosened his grip, forcing his fingers to unclench and his shoulders to relax. He realised that his jaw was clenched so tightly that it almost hurt his teeth. He took a deep breath, which  suddenly became quite difficult.

Quite a few people had stopped eating, and were now looking at him worriedly. Harry tried to smile at Neville, who looked really concerned as he patted Harry’s back, but it came out as a grimace.

“Harry,” Ginny said softly as she brought her hand up to brush aside his fringes.

But the moment her fingers made contact with his forehead, Harry jumped as if burned, knocking out his chair in his haste to get up and get away from her touch. Because it really felt like someone had scald him with hot iron.

“I...I am fine,” he said, in a voice that didn’t sound like his, even to his own ears.

Everyone looked from Harry to Ginny, whose hand was still up in the air from when she had reached for him. She looked embarrassed and a little offended.  But before she could say anything, Harry grabbed his bag and left the great hall with a hurried, “I’ll see you later,” over his shoulders, to no one in particular.

Once outside the great hall, he dropped his bag and leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He ran his sweaty fingers through his hair, and pulled at his thick locks, sliding down the wall as his knees gave out. He buried his face into his knees, glad that no one was there in the corridor to witness his sudden and unreasonable breakdown.

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, as images of blond hair and grey eyes flashed before his eyelids. Taking in a deep breath, he wondered if it was finally the time for him to die.

A hollow, hysterical laugh left his throat as he imagined Voldemort’s glee over the idea of Harry Potter dying of cardiac arrest.

**

“Hey, Cedric!” Harry called.

Cedric came to a halt on his way towards the entrance hall, and turned around. His eyes lit up at the sight of a flushed Harry running towards him. “Hello, Harry,” he said, grinning, when Harry stopped in front of him. “How can I help you?”

Harry grinned back. “I was wondering if you would mind proof reading my transfiguration essay before I submit it to Professor McGonagall. This one was quite tough, and I am not sure if I have done it right.”

Cedric was one of those seniors who had asked Harry to join them for study sessions. Harry really liked how considerate and helpful Cedric was. They weren’t close friends per say, but Cedric always insisted on helping Harry with his studies if he ever got stuck. Harry didn’t mind, but he made sure to never bother Cedric, and repay him in some way.

Cedric’s face fell, “I am sorry, Harry, I can’t. You know, with all the schools coming—I have to be there to escort the representatives and...I don’t think I would have any time left.” He looked at Harry apologetically.

“Oh no, don’t worry,” said Harry, trying to reassure Cedric, who looked really disappointed, “I’ll be fine. I can always ask Hermione.” When Cedric still looked hesitant, Harry playfully bumped his shoulder, “Go do your duties, or professor Sprouts would blame me for your tardiness.”

Cedric cracked a smile at that, and ran a hand through his hair, “uh...You know, I was wondering if...” he started, biting his lip, giving Harry the impression that he was fighting a mental battle and debating over his next words. Finally, he seemed to loose his nerve, and shook his head, “I was wondering if you saw the Prophet today? Quite an impressive profile Malfoy has, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “who would have thought? Do you think its rigged?”

Cedric shook his head, “No, I don’t think so. Father said that the names of the applicants weren’t revealed until they were selected—even to the judges.”

“Oh. Well, that would really piss Hermione off,” Harry muttered.

Cedric chuckled, “Yeah, I guess.” He shifted from foot to foot, looking nervous.

Harry waited for him to say something, because he really seemed like he wanted to. Ultimately, Harry took pity on him, and broke the awkward silence that had settled between them, “I think I should go. Professor McGonagall won’t take it lightly if Gryffindors aren’t on their best behaviour, and being late for welcoming the schools won’t help my situation.”

Cedric exhaled, giving Harry a relieved smile. “Yeah, I’ll see you around then.”

“You too,” said Harry, waving at Cedric in a quick good bye as he turned to leave.

Unbeknown to him, Cedric watched him longingly as he left, all the way out of the entrance hall, until Harry was out of his sight.

********************

Professor McGonagall took one look at Harry, and send him back to the great hall. Harry didn’t argue, he was still feeling queasy, and a little sick. It must have shown on his face.

He rested his head on the table, resting them on his arms. The constant buzzing in his head was doing a great job at nullifying the loud noises that were coming from outside.

Soon, the doors of the great hall opened, and students bustled in a pile of excited chatter. Harry watched as a dazed looking Ron took his place next to Dean again. He had a dreamy look in his eyes.

“I am sure she is Veela!” he told Dean, who looked way more interested in the French dessert on the table.

Harry buried his face in the crook of his elbow, trying to drown out all the noises. The buzzing in his head had gotten louder, and he could feel sweat trickling down his forehead. Maybe he was coming down with fever. With the burning sensation under his skin, and his aching limbs, he was pretty convinced.

“Please welcome! Our guests from Durmstrang!” Dumbledore’s voice boomed across the great hall.

Harry looked up, feeling curious and excited despite himself. He watched in awe as a group of smartly dressed students entered the great hall, before breaking into a well choreographed sequence of martial arts. Banging their boots, and spinning there sticks in rhythm, ending in a show of charmed fire, and drawing thunderous applause from the Hogwarts students. 

“AND NOW! Our guests from Beauxbatons!”

If Durmstarng’s performance was breath taking, Beauxbatons took matters to another level.

A group of boys, in dashing grey and pale blue uniform, entered the great hall, walking gracefully, their steps in sync, as they effortlessly conjured beautiful sparkling butterflies, who flew across the great hall like a breeze, as if dancing to the tunes of the boys’ wands. This was followed by a group of girls who entered in a twirl of flawless movements, dancing along with the breezy butterflies. They swished their wands, and the tingling sounds of bells chiming filled the air, just as their headmistress entered. It reminded Harry distantly of the charmed keys from first year, just more pleasant to look at.

The Beauxbatons students lined up in front of the great hall, parallel to the Durmstrang students, and all the butterflies hummed, gathering above the high table, before bursting into a jiggle of wings, forming the coat of arms of all the three schools. The entire hall broke into loud cheers, whistles and hoots added into the mix.

 But nothing could have prepared Harry for what came next.

A cold breeze flew across the great hall, with a soft howl of wind. A sudden silence fell into the air, except for the still chiming butterflies. Harry felt a chill run down his spine, and the buzzing in his head doubled, as all heads turned to look at the entrance of the great hall.

A lone figure walked in; His steps swift and elegant, as if he was gliding down the passage; his boots clicking smartly, overpowering the sounds of the excited whispers that had now broken out across the great hall. Light, charcoal grey trousers, accompanied by a white crisp silk shirt and a waist coat of the same shade of charcoal grey. Silvery blue tie, with an elaborate knot, and a silvery blue silk cape thrown over his shoulders, complimenting the muted palate of the boy’s outfit. Badges and medals adorned the left side of the boy’s chest, reflecting the light of the twinkling stars from the ceiling, and the right side had the Beauxbatons crest on it. It was a simple Beauxbatons uniform, but the way the boy was carrying it, with easy confidence, it looked like he was a model straight out of a wizarding fashion magazine.

Harry’s heart stuttered as he registered the beautiful sight of Draco in all his glory. His Draco. Someone he had never thought he would ever be able to see again. And he was here, right in front of Harry’s eyes, walking down the great hall, as if he owned it.

He had the same bright grey eyes, the same ice blond hair that looked softer than silk as they peeked out from under his baby blue hat, the same soft pink lips. Harry wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not, but his heart was beating so hard against his ribs, that he could almost hear it like loud drum beats.

But something was different about Draco. His eyes lacked the warmth that had been directed at Harry in the forest, and instead held a cold, calculating alertness. His cheekbones looked sharper, making him look arrogant, But in the most attractive way imaginable. One of his clipped eyebrow was raised, challenging everyone in the room. He knew everyone was looking at him, and he knew that they were all stricken and awed. His lips were quirked in a smirk, and not the heart fluttering soft smile, the memory of which still flipped Harry’s stomach.

His right hand was behind his back, while his other was twirling his wand, which was raised above his head, controlling a swirling mist of blue flames which was revolving around him like a mild tornado.

He stopped when he reached the high table, right in the centre of all the students, and turned around in a fluid motion, giving his wand a final flick as he did so. The chiming butterflies burst in the blue flames of the cold roaring fire. And as they burned the school crests that were high in the air, a different symbol appeared. The symbol of the international magical cooperation. As the fire died, the symbol shattered into a display of blazing fireworks, whose sounds were almost drowned by the clamorous, deafening claps that echoed around the school.

Draco bent in a graceful bow, tipping his hat, and spreading his other arm, which had his wand. How he managed to look so superior while bowing so low was a mystery Harry would never be able to solve.

Everyone swooned when Draco straightened up, with a charming smile on his face, flipping his fringes that were falling in his eyes, and winked at the hall.

“MAGNIFICENT!” cheered Ludo Bagman, “Just Beautiful!” He shook hands with Draco, who ducked his head with a polite smile. Madam Maxime patted Draco on his back, looking everything like a proud headmistress.

Harry’s fingers itched, and his tows twitched in his shoes as he tried to hold himself back from striding over to Draco, right then and there.

He waited for all the exchange students to take there place. The Beauxbatons students took the Rawenclaw table, while the Durmstrang students occupied the Slytherin table. From the corner of his eyes Harry saw Nott sticking himself up to Victor krum with that sickly sweet smile, inviting himself to sit with them.

Maybe Harry could ask Draco to sit with the Gryffindors. Maybe they could talk and become friends, Harry would love to introduce Draco to Hermione and Neville. Maybe they could also go for a seekers game, but if Draco preferred some other position, then Harry would be ok with that too.

But what if Draco didn’t know how to fly, maybe Harry could teach him. Yes, that would be fun too, Harry would love that. But what if Draco didn’t like Quidditch. Harry wasn’t even sure if people played Quidditch in France.

Doubts settled into Harry’s heart, making his already aching chest feel heavier. What if Draco didn’t remember Harry at all? What if Draco didn’t want to meet Harry? Surely, they met at such a wrong time, in such severe circumstances, what if Draco didn’t want to see a reminder to that fateful night? Or worst of all. What if Draco remembered him, but he still didn’t want to see Harry? What if he didn’t like Harry? That could be a huge possibility. Harry could see how everyone was admiring Draco, he was sure that everyone would want Draco’s attention. Draco had already caught so many eyes. He was already a selected delegate from his school, and must be insanely popular and intelligent to make it to the triwizards.  What if Harry wasn’t good enough for someone like Draco?

Harry’s heart twisted painfully at the thought, almost squeezing the breath out of him. He stared at his lap, his sweaty palms were trembling. He hastily wiped it on his trousers and looked up again.

He gulped.

He would have to give it a try at least. He won’t give up just like that. He was  a Gryffindor for fucks sake!

He exhaled. He certainly did not feel any of the Gryffindor courage though.

Harry waited for all the students to take their seats, as all the officials and teachers shook hands and greeted each other. But to Harry’s surprise, Draco didn’t go with his school mates. He stayed behind, at the head table, shaking hands with all the officials. Harry watched as Bagman laughed at something Draco said, and he noticed a faint blush rising up Professor McGonagall’s cheeks as Draco kissed the back of her hand, instead of shaking it.

Just what was happening? And as the surprise settled in, so did the questions. What was Draco doing here? The competition was for students above the age of 17, wasn’t it? And hadn’t Draco mentioned that he was Harry’s age. Harry did remember something being said along those lines when Draco had asked about how Harry learned to caste a Patronus.   

Harry frowned. Maybe Draco was the son or a relative of an official, and was just accompanying them here? And that was why all the other officials seemed so keen to be in his good books? The ministry people did love licking the boots of important people. But which official could that be? None of the officials or professors present seemed related to Draco, Harry noted as his eyes moved from one person to another. And he was sure that all the officials must be present today, considering how important the opening ceremony was.

Harry vaguely heard Dumbledore’s voice in the background, as he made announcements and explained the rules about some burning goblet and what not. Everyone at the high table was standing still now, done with all the initial greetings. They were listening closely to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore announced the tournament open, and explained some rules, and how they had one week, that is till the Halloween, to add their names to the goblet to compete in the tournament.

 But Harry wasn’t really listening. He was more focused on Draco, whose head was ducked a little towards Minister Fudge, who was whispering something in Draco’s ear. Yes, Harry was definitely sure that Draco really must be the son, or at least related to someone important. But again, _who?_ Even Fudge was entertaining Draco.

Harry scanned all the faces again. Everyone was there, even Mr. Crouch was attending the event, despite how sick he looked. Surely if Draco was related to someone important, that person should be here. That would explain why Draco was present for the opening ceremony.

Harry scanned the faces again. Yes, everyone was here, and no one seemed close to Draco. Everyone was here, maybe except the—

And then it hit Harry. Like a bludger to his chest.

Everyone was here. Everyone... _except the students representative!_

And suddenly something clicked in Harry’s brain, like a lock that finally found the right key hole. All the images and distant pieces of conversations came flashing in front of Harry’s eyes. Falling together like puzzle pieces.

A memory of Lucius Malfoy greeting Minister Fudge. _I would have introduced my son as well but he is quite busy, school representation, you see?_

And then a memory of him and Lyra, in the forest. _Dwaco says, he watches me fwom school when he is in Fwance,_

Then a memory of him and Draco.

_How do you know all this?_

Harry had asked Draco about his intensive knowledge on Voldemort, and Draco had just shrugged and looked away. Draco had addressed Voldemort as _The Dark Lord._

He remembered Draco’s house elf.

_Master hasn’t returned. He hasn’t and—mistress is so worried. Oh! my poor mistress...”_

 And then what Hermione had said.

_...asked if we have seen a blond guy about our age, probably accompanied by a little girl...She looked really worried..._

And then

_his mother was looking for him and had come to her asking his whereabouts hoping that he must be with his school mates after she had told him to run off to safety with his sister, but that he wasn’t with them_

Then something that Sirius had said.

_“That still doesn’t explain why Draco’s father wasn’t there with them in the first place, ” she pointed out._

_“Maybe he was busy helping the ministry,” Charlie piped up._

_"Or maybe he was busy giving the ministry a hard time,” Sirius drawled._

And Harry almost dropped his fork when everything came together in a rush, making his head spin.

He remembered something that he had heard this morning.

_“...they say he would have come to Hogwarts if not for his father...”_

And

_Nott and Parkinson say that they know him. He would have been sorted into Slytherin..._

And then finally. The name in the morning edition of the Prophet popped in Harry’s mind.

_D.L. Malfoy_

_Draco -  Lucius - Malfoy._

Harry’s hands trembled as he turned around to look at Hermione, wishing with all his aching heart that this was a huge mistake.

But Hermione was watching Draco with narrowed eyes, contempt written all over her face. And it only confirmed Harry’s suspicion. And did nothing to quell his rising dread.

Harry felt like his heart would crumble from the pain of losing something even before getting it. And it suddenly became too difficult to breath. He felt so stupid for missing all the signs. Draco would never want to be Harry’s friend because he was _Draco Malfoy_ and Harry was _Harry Potter._ They were enemies. Draco must have grown hating Harry. Listening to his father cursing Harry, and probably laughing at him, wishing for his demise.

Harry felt so stupid. He should have known. The fate was never on his side, was it? It just had to go and take away everything from him. It was just so cruel. And unfair. Harry felt tears burning his eyes. He didn’t know why, but it just hurt too much.

When he thought he would finally have a family, he lost his best friend and the only motherly figure he had in his life. When he thought he would live happily with dad and moons, Dumbledore took it away from him. When he thought he would finally get a chance to know the person he had been dreaming about, that person turned out to be Draco _Fucking Malfoy. Son of a bloody Death eater_. And one that hated Harry with all his might. It was so so wrong! That the world gave him Draco in one moment, and took him away in the next.

He distantly heard Hermione shaking his shoulders, asking him if he was okay. He shook his head, not able to speak. His throat was too constricted to be able to form words.

He heard Neville urging him to eat, because the dinner was getting over. But all Harry could do was shake his head again.

He got up. He needed to get out of here. And he needed to get out of here now! He can’t take it if Draco saw him. He won’t be able to bear the hatred in those warm grey eyes when Draco realised that he was Harry Potter. It would be better if Harry saved himself that heartbreak.

He hastily slung his bag. And made to leave the great hall, jostling his hand out of Neville’s grasp who was trying to stop Harry.

But Harry didn’t listen, his thoughts were too loud, ringing and mocking. Everything around him felt hazy. He saw everyone getting up to leave the great hall. He quickened his pace. Its better if he left before them. He pushed past a few students who were leaving too, and was almost running by the time he was out in the cold, empty corridors.

Harry ran into the most secluded corridor he could remember from his map. He needed some time alone.

“Excuse me!”

He heard someone calling out to him, but it only made him run faster.

“Hey! - Stop!”

But Harry didn’t want to stop. He just wanted to run. Away from everything because _god it hurt so much._

“I Told you to bloddy stop--!”

Suddenly he felt fingers wrap around his wrist, as someone forcefully turned him around.

And he came face to face with—

“Harry?”

Draco was standing there, right in front of him, his cool fingers still wrapped around Harry’s wrist. 

His lips parted in shock as he stared at Harry with wide grey eyes. “Is this really you?” he whispered.

Harry’s addled brain couldn’t help but think that Draco looked adorable , and oh so innocent in that moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave reviews and Comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Do leave COMMENTS AND REVIEWS!


End file.
